


Mack the Knife

by Mercey



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Andreil, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Language, F/M, Gang Wars, Gun Violence, I get way too invested in Mack's story, I hope it's fun to read, I'm not sorry, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Josten sister AU, M/M, Mild Language, Neil Josten is a Little Shit, Neil gets the chance to come out to his family, Post-Canon, Sibling AU, Wesninski sister, and the aftg universe, established andreil, have fun, he will send Mack to an early goddamn grave, i just really like badass women, okay that last tag’s a lie, sister fic, the Jostens have big bastard energies and I love them for it, this has literally no purpose, this is just an excuse to write Neil as a woman, this is mostly wholesome i promise, this was fun to write
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:09:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 67,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22589200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mercey/pseuds/Mercey
Summary: ‘You’re alive.’It wasn’t what Neil had wanted to say, but the words seemed to spill from his lips and he couldn’t take them back.‘So are you,’ his sister scoffed, her eyes as sharp as her tone. ‘Fuck knows how.’Neil Josten's sister, Mary "Mack" Wesninski, isn't as dead as he'd once thought and—to his ultimate displeasure—she's got plans. Andrew's going to kill him. Hejustnarrowly avoided one mob war.
Relationships: Andrew Minyard & Original Character(s), Kevin Day & Andrew Minyard, Kevin Day & Neil Josten, Neil Josten & Original Character(s), Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 199
Kudos: 340





	1. Alive

**Author's Note:**

> Hey dudes, this first part is mostly just canon stuff with my own spin on certain scenes. Hopefully it's enough to pique some interest!

Neil could hear his sister’s voice in his head.  _ This is a bad idea.  _ He looked at Kevin again, searching for his true name on Kevin’s face. ‘It’s not a good idea,’ he said in the low, toneless manner of a mimic.

‘Your opinion has been duly noted and dismissed,’ Wymack said. ‘Anything else, or are you going to start signing stuff?’

The smart thing to do was say no. Even if Kevin didn’t know who he was, this was a terrible idea. The Foxes were notorious and it was only going to get worse with Kevin now on the line. Neil shouldn’t subject himself to such scrutiny. He should rip Wymack’s contract up, throw it back into his face, and leave the locker room with his common sense intact.

Leaving meant living, but Neil’s way of life wasn’t really living; it was survival. It was new identities and locations and never looking back. It was packing up in the night and fleeing as soon as he found himself feeling too comfortable. If he ran now, without his mother or his sister at his side, it meant being entirely on his own, with no connections, no roots, no meaning. He wasn’t sure he was ready for that.

Neil didn’t even know what name to assign to his sister’s memory; she’d had so many, as had he. He didn’t want to die like her: nameless, forgotten, and pointless. He couldn’t let his mother’s and sister’s sacrifices be for nothing.

In the end, he’d never really had a choice.

—

Neil had inherited his mother’s connections after her death. He was a few years younger than his sister—he’d forgotten her exact birthdate—but he was slightly less dead, only slightly. He knew his ID was good, but his heart still raced whenever someone asked to see his papers. 

He followed the signs down to arrivals and recognised one of the twins. From the calm look on his face, Neil guessed that this one was Aaron: “the normal twin.” 

‘Neil,’ Aaron said in lieu of hello as he gestured towards the baggage claim.

‘Just this.’ Neil tapped the strap of his duffle bag.

Aaron accepted that without comment and started away, Neil following him out into a muggy summer afternoon.

—

Neil remembered black sands beach along California’s lost coast where his mother finally gave up the fight. He hadn’t realised the extent of her injuries after running into his father in Seattle, where he’d last seen his sister. His mother had been bleeding the whole time they drove through Oregon, but he never could have imagined the internal injuries she was dealing with. The grief of losing one of her children couldn’t have helped either. 

She had figured out that she was dying, eventually, and she’d made him promise her: Don’t look back, don’t slow down, and don’t trust anyone. Be anyone but himself, and never be anyone for too long.

—

Sleeping in a bed on his own would be strange. He’d gotten used to sleeping back-to-back with his mother while on the run, his sister crashing in a bathtub or a cupboard, somewhere no one would ever think to look for a sleeping person. The gun had always been uncomfortable under his pillow but as he was often reminded: at least he’d had a pillow. 

—

When Neil changed into the clothes Nicky had given to him, he watched his reflection. He heard his sister’s teasing voice in his ear but pushed it away, he couldn’t afford to think of her now; couldn’t leave an opening for Andrew.

No matter how many times he, his mother, and his sister changed their identities and accents, and languages, one thing remained unchanged: they always flew under the radar with their wardrobe choices. Unremarkable clothing that could blend in with the masses like faded t-shirts, stretched jeans, and old sneakers, were preferable to anything identifiable or note-worthy. 

This outfit was the complete opposite in every single way. It was stark. Black. The shirt was torn with a thin layer underneath to hide his bear skin. It made Neil feel incredibly exposed. He ran his hands down his sides—over his scars—to make sure nothing was showing. The boots were solid and heavy; Neil didn’t hate them. The pants were stiff and tight; these, he hated.

There was only one thing left to change. Neil gnawed his lip and his stomach flipped as he took his contacts out, blinking to adjust to the feeling of being free of them. A flash of bright blue in the mirror had him gripping the sink for balance. It had been over a year since Neil had seen his real eyes, his father’s eyes. They were indecently bright against his black hair and clothes, and no amount of remembered reassurances from his dead sister would change the fact that he hated them. 

If only he had also inherited his mother’s innocuous grey eyes.

—

Neil hadn’t been responsible for anyone’s death in years. He knew how many people died in his mother’s attempts to keep him and his sister safe. Neil never wanted to become his father, but he didn’t want to turn into his mother either. He’d seen the beginnings of it in his sister before her death, and it was a small condolence knowing that she’d died before becoming her own kind of monster, like their parents. For all Neil’s social ineptitude and bad attitude, a monster wasn’t something he wanted to be.

He needed more time to decide whether or not to give Andrew’s theory about Seth’s death any credit. Though, it didn’t really matter in any case. Once Allison made the connection between Neil antagonising Riko on Kathy Ferdinand’s show and Seth’s overdose, there’d be no dealing with her this year. 

Patching things up with Allison wasn’t going to be easy. Neil’s sister could never afford to stay mad at him for too long, survival had always trumped petty sibling drama. Allison reminded him of her a bit, so it was unlikely that she would be his first win in the challenge of making amends.

—

Uncurling his fingers, Neil stared at the gray phone resting in his palm. Something this small shouldn’t have the power to hurt him this much, but grief tore through him anyway. He remembered the beach, the sounds of the waves whispering to the shore, the cold sand under his hands as he buried his mother’s bones, digging until his fingers were numb.

He’d saved their phones for last. Whenever they moved, Neil, his mother, and his sister all got new burner phones. They were used for essential communication and ditched at the first sign of trouble. Neil had wanted to keep his mother’s phone. It was stupid, but Neil was a little stupid at the time. He dialed his sister’s number on his phone, then on his mother’s when it rang out, thinking maybe his sister would pick up for her if not for him. She hadn’t answered either, so he hurled both phones into the ocean.  _ She’s dead,  _ his mother’s voice whispered in his head.  _ She’s dead. She’s dead. She’s dead. _

‘Neil.’

Nicky’s urgent tone cut through the chanting—ringing—in Neil’s ears. He dredged his eyes up and met Nicky’s concerned look. Remembering how to breathe was a struggle, but Neil eventually managed it, swallowing and offering the phone to Nicky. His voice was firm when he said, ‘No.’

—

‘I can’t believe your mother agreed to this.’

‘My mother is dead,’ Neil said. Kevin opened his mouth, but Neil wasn’t in the mood. ‘She died last year and I buried her on the west coast. I have nothing and no one else, Kevin. That’s why I signed.’

‘Your sister?’ Kevin asked, useless pity in his eyes. Neil wasn’t in the mood for that either.

‘No.’

Kevin ignored him. ‘Neil—’

‘I said no, Kevin. Now tell me the truth.’ Neil’s fists curled at his sides and Kevin kept his gaze on him as he explained.

‘You were supposed to be like me. You were a gift, another player for the master to train. You had two days to win him over: an initial scrimmage with us to show off your potential and a second scrimmage to prove you could adapt to and implement his instructions and criticisms. If afterward he decided you weren’t worth his time you would be executed by your own father.’

Neil gulped, swallowing his combined dismay and yearning. ‘How did I do?’

‘Your mother wouldn’t risk failure,’ Kevin said. ‘You never made it to the second practice. She disappeared with you and your sister overnight.’

Neil stiffened at the mention of his sister again, but he had to know. ‘Do you know if...  _ she _ had been anything to the Moriyamas? Riko didn’t mention her.’

Kevin knew which “she” he meant and shook his head sadly. ‘I don’t know.’

—

‘Why don’t you like girls?’

Nicky’s eyes widened, as though he was surprised Neil had bothered to comment. He searched for an answer and settled on saying, ‘They’re so soft.’

Neil thought of Renee’s busted knuckles, Dan’s fierce spirit, and Allison holding her ground on the court a week after losing Seth. He thought about his mother standing before his father, dauntless and unyielding, and her leaving bodies in their wake. His sister, covering him with her own body as a storm of gunfire raged overhead, and pushing him behind her at the first sign of danger. 

The compulsion to say something was too strong to resist and he managed to keep most of his sorrow out of his voice when he said, ‘Some of the strongest people I’ve known are women.’ 

—

‘So what are you studying, Nicholas?’

A part of Neil has always thought that Nicky was exaggerating how disconnected he was from his family. He had always been prone to hyperbole. Yet, Nicky was in his sophomore year and his parents didn’t even know what he was studying? Neil’s mother might have been violent and brutal at times, but she was always fiercely devoted to him. Well, to him and— 

Neil stopped his thoughts before they could go there.

—

Facing Riko in Evermore went against everything Neil had been taught by his mother. He had been raised to run, to survive, to sacrifice whatever would hold him back. When he had wanted to go back for his sister, his mother hadn’t let him.

_ She’s dead. She’s dead. She’s dead. _

Neil Josten was a jumble of lies, but he was also a fox. Andrew had given him a home; Nicky had called him family. Neil wasn’t going to lose a family again and if two weeks with Riko was the price to keep them safe, Neil was going to pay it.

—

Whenever Neil moved, he felt fire rip across his skin, over the lacerations carved by Riko Moriyama. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Riko’s sharp knife and sharper grin flash behind his eyelids. Riko had tried to break him, and Neil thought that if he only bended a little, he could stay whole. But he was so cruelly bent out of shape that he couldn’t pull himself back together. He wasn’t strong enough to do it alone, his mother and sister weren’t around to patch him up, to pull at the thread and watch him slowly come together to resemble the tattered thing he had been before.

‘Neil,’ Wymack said.

Neil. That’s what Wymack called him. Even as he was sprawled against Wymack, with his father’s face and his father’s eyes and the Moriyama’s number on his cheek. Neil stopped fighting to free himself from Wymack’s hold. He wanted Neil to be true—needed Neil to be true. He held onto Wymacks arms with desperation.

‘Help me,’ he said through gritted teeth.

‘Let me,’ Wymack shot back.

And he’d never really had a choice about that either.

—

Andrew put his left hand to the burn on Neil’s right shoulder, courtesy of getting smacked with a hot iron. His thumb pressed into the puckered scar where a bullet had once gone through. It had healed ugly, the consequence of clumsy stitches; his sister’s learning curve. Neil hadn’t taken his bullet-proof vest off for almost a month afterwards, not until his mother bullied him into removing it to shower. His sister hadn’t said a word, she blamed herself for not being careful enough. 

‘Someone shot you,’ Andrew said flatly. 

‘I told you someone was after me,’ Neil replied.

‘This,’ Andrew dug his fingers into the iron burn, ‘is not from a life on the run.’

‘My father gave me that. People came by asking questions about his work. I didn’t say anything, but—’ Neil’s sister had said something, though he couldn’t remember what. He had been “Junior” back then, she had been “Mack.” Neil wondered how many of the marks he bore were due to his untouchable sister’s mistakes. ‘—I didn’t sit still enough either. He hit me as soon as the door shut behind them.’

— 

Neil tugged at the cuffs around his wrists. Blood streamed, slow and syrupy, down the side of his face. Lola clicked the lighter and Neil nearly screamed. The only reason he didn’t was because he couldn’t breathe.

‘I know your father’s going to ask, but I have to know now,’ Lola said. ‘You listening, Junior?’ she pounded him on the back with the hilt of her knife. ‘Where is the bird, hm? We’ve had some time to dig around since we figured out where you were, but there’s no sign of her anywhere. Her, or the little princess.’

‘She’s dead,’ Neil choked out. ‘They both are.’

The psychopath wanted Neil to remind her. He knew Lola had had a hand in killing his sister, probably after torturing her in a similar fashion to what she was doing to Neil right now. The thought made him want to throw up.

Lola’s hands were around his neck before he could. ‘Do we believe him?’ Lola asked her brother, Romero.

‘Might as well be sure,’ Romero said from behind the wheel.

Neil screamed as the lighter was crushed to his cheek once more. He struggled helplessly—thoughtlessly—kicking his legs, cuffed to the seat railing. The smell of his own burning flesh would stay with him until his death, an event that would, ideally, wouldn’t take long to come around. 

‘Try again, Junior. Where is Mary? Senior or Junior, I’m not bothered which.’

‘They’re dead,’ Neil gasped, his vocal chords scraped raw from screaming. ‘They’re dead. She’s dead. She’s dead. She’s dead.’ His mother’s words repeated in his mind and came spilling out of his abused throat.  _ She’s dead. She’s dead. She’s dead.  _

With a shock, Neil finally realised why those words had stayed with him. It wasn’t grief. It was the obvious lie in his mother’s voice. Was his mother saying:  _ She’s dead  _ or  _ she’s as good as dead _ ? Neil heard the answer in Lola’s questions. His mother had lied. His sister hadn’t been killed. Neil was going to throw up again. 

Lola crawled into the back again, which was somehow worse because he couldn’t see the attacks coming. There was no way he could prepare for when she cut up the soft underside flesh of his arms, or when she interlaced the cuts with burns from the dashboard lighter. 

— 

‘Neil Josten, a Stuart Hatford is here to see you.’

Neil followed the guard around the inner ring of the court. A wall separated it from the stands and Stuart was waiting on the other side of it, his arms folded on top. He nodded dismissal at the guard and ran his eyes over Neil.

‘I’d have thought you’d be back in England by now,’ Neil said.

‘I’ve been going back and forth. I’d have been back sooner but he told us not to interfere.’ Stuart waited for Neil’s nod, to show he knew the “he” that Stuart meant, before he went on. ‘Your father’s death left a void not so easily filled. Little boss is cleaning house and cutting losses everywhere he can, taking out people from South Carolina to California. Cops, doctors, moles—’

‘Doctors? In South Carolina?’ Neil asked ‘Medical doctors or shrinks? Do you have names?’

‘I stay out of specifics unless they pertain to me,’ Stuart said. ‘Anyone in particular you’re looking for?’

‘Proust.’ Neil spat the name. ‘Psychiatrist at Easthaven in Columbia, let himself be bought out and used by the wrong brother. I told— the little boss.’

Stuart nodded. ‘I’ll look into it.’ Then he handed Neil a folded slip of paper. Neil went to unfurl it when Stuart stopped him. ‘Chin up,’ he said, straightening. ‘Eyes forward. Little boss is here tonight. Don’t make him regret investing in you.’

And then his uncle was gone, and Neil had a folded slip of paper wedged into the back of his glove to read later.

—

Later came after the Foxes beat the Ravens in the finals. Neil was high on victory and wide awake, despite his weary limbs. He wobbled onto the bus and took his usual seat in front of Andrew, who had his eyes closed but probably wasn’t asleep. Dipping his fingertips into the pocket of his sweatpants, Neil rummaged around until he touched the hard edge of a folded paper slip. He pulled it out and read the short message etched across it, the handwriting achingly-familiar.

YOU BASTARD. SEE YOU SOON. 

—M.D.W.

Neil’s breath caught in his throat. His sister had always been concise.

_ She’s alive. She’s alive. She’s alive. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we have it. The next chapter will introduce Neil's sister in a little more detail. Chuck a kudos if you dug this and a comment if you're feeling super super generous. Every comment makes my day :)


	2. Courtney

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaand here's Mack!! Thank you for the beautiful responses on this so far, I really didn't know if anyone would be interested in this but GOD I LOVE KICKASS WOMEN SO HERE WE GO.
> 
> Thanks [SelflessAmbition](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SelflessAmbition/pseuds/SelflessAmbition) for proofreading this, you're a gem <3

Waking up in complete darkness, hearing the loud roar of an engine and smelling gasoline, was always disconcerting. Waking up in agony, the vicious movements of a car jolting over bumpy road making every part of her body scream in protest was bothersome. Coming to the realisation that she was in the trunk of a car, her hands cuffed in front of her, was heart-stoppingly terrifying.

Courtney. Her name was Courtney—for now, anyway—she was never any one person for too long and Courtney was going to die very soon, whether she got out of here or not. 

Courtney felt around, hissing as her ribs protested the movement. She recalled her father’s heavy boots violently pounding the air out of her lungs. She recalled Lola Malcolm standing over her with a knife to her throat as she watched her father shift his focus onto her mother who lay prone beside her.

_ You stupid bitch,  _ Courtney remembered thinking hopelessly in her mother’s direction,  _ Get back to Alex. Get him out of here.  _ But she’d been too weak to force more than a whine through her lips. Her mother looked over, cheek pressed against the concrete floor, blood pissing from a gash over her eye and leaving droplets of dark red spattered on the grey. 

Courtney’s voice was a wheeze when she forced herself to say, ‘Go.’ 

Then, grunting with the effort, Courtney used what strength she had left to kick out against Lola; to stand and pounce on her father’s back before she could lose her balance. Black dots obscured her vision as she sank her teeth into Nathan Wesninski’s flesh. She didn’t care where she bit him, only that it hurt. Her father’s outraged snarl sent a ripple of satisfaction through her chest, and a bolt of horror down her spine. 

Someone strong—she suspected DiMaccio—tried to grab her from behind but she lashed out, scoring a knife from his belt and whipping it around, catching him across his cheek and burying the knife in Lola’s thigh. Courtney knew she’d never get out of this alive, but maybe her family could. She just needed to create a diversion long enough for her stupid mother to get up and do what they’d been doing for the last seven years: run.

Damage was done, not enough to sate Courtney’s thirst for vengeance, but enough for her mother to escape. When her father eventually beat her to the ground, all of them were bleeding somewhere. _ At least I went down fighting,  _ she thought, a sob tearing through her body and tears seeping from the corners of her eyes.

‘Get her up,’ her father barked, disgust colouring his tone. ‘We’ll take her back and finish it off there. Don’t want anyone interrupting father-daughter time, do we?’ He got close to Courtney’s face, his thick fingers closing around her neck. Her ears rang as her legs writhed uselessly, scrabbling for purchase on the slick floor—smeared with blood—but she could still make out his gruelling words. ‘I’m going to make this last and last. You’ll be begging for death by the time I finally give it to you.’ 

Her father released her, and Courtney gasped as oxygen and terror clawed down her windpipe. All the muscles in her body tensed for impact as her father slammed her head back into the ground with a savage yell. A loud thud. The taste of blood. Then, everything went black.

Everything was still black, but she was conscious, nauseated, frightened half out of her wits. But conscious, and still with half her wits.

Courtney felt around in the dark.  _ Please be made after 2002,  _ she hoped and let out a shuddering breath when she found it: the trunk-release.  _ Thick-headed pricks,  _ she thought almost giddily, fiddling with it for only a moment before the click let her know the latch had been released. The trunk popped open and Courtney grappled with it for a moment as the car sprinted over the uneven bitchumen. Holding the opening steady was difficult when her hands were cuffed but she managed to pick the latch closed with her fingers and only a slight wince, tricking the sensor into thinking the trunk was still shut. She held her breath for a moment, waiting to see if the car slowed to a stop, and sighed in relief when it continued to barrel along the road. Outside was dim, the red tail lights illuminating the ground rushing past below.

Swallowing her own fear, Courtney made to hook one leg over the lip of the trunk but discovered that her feet were trussed together. She didn’t bother trying to see if it was something she could easily get out of. There wasn’t time. 

Courtney threw the door of the trunk up and shoved herself out onto the road, hands cupped over her face to protect her nose. She hit the ground and fire ignited along the side of her cheek, down her shoulder, across her chest where her tank-top had been stretched loose. Courtney rolled into some shrubbery on the side of the road and risked a glance up at the car, her breaths whining through her chest. The car didn’t slow and the trunk slammed shut as it hurtled over a dip in the road. 

There was no time to savour this small victory. Courtney twisted into a sitting position, her mouth open in a silent scream as her battered body resisted movement. She examined the zip-tie binding her ankles and struggled to undo her shoe-lace with cuffs in the way. Her heart pounded as she finally pulled the knot free and commenced sawing at her restraint. When it snapped, she didn’t bother retying her shoe, focussed instead on moving forward.

A quick survey of her surroundings showed Courtney was at the top of a steep slope, a field to her right and lights in the distance. Possibly from a gas station. Somewhere with a phone. Somewhere she could call Alex and her mother. 

Courtney started down the hill, every step making her injuries twinge. She gritted her teeth against the urge to cry and forced herself onwards, keeping an eye out for rocks and dips in the turf that could trip her up. Her hands wouldn’t be able to catch her while they were cuffed so she reached up to yank the lock-picking bobby pin she kept in her hair free. As she did, the world tilted and she stepped to the side, trapping her shoelace under her other shoe.  _ Oh, fuck me,  _ was her last thought before she fell.

— 

Courtney opened her eyes and blinked at the sky, white with early dawn. She sat up slowly, whimpering as remembered agony blew through her, snatching air from her chest. She closed her eyes for a moment to compose herself. Memories of the night before flashed through her mind and her head pounded with the strain. She definitely had a concussion, and she definitely needed to get to her brother. Their mother didn’t have much time to live after the beating she’d taken, the blood she’d already lost. The whole night had passed, and it felt like both a lifetime and a few hours. Both, in Courtney’s case. A few hours was a lifetime when your mother was dying and your seventeen-year-old brother was alone.

Something nudged against her leg and her eyes snapped back open. It was a crow, or a raven. A big, black, probably carnivorous, scavenger bird. Shooing it away, Courtney whispered, ‘I’m not dead yet,’ though, she wasn’t entirely sure if she was talking to the bird or herself. 

Courtney pulled herself into a crouch so she could tie her shoe, scanning her peripheral vision as she did. Her father probably knew she was gone by now, he would be circling back soon to see where he’d lost her. She had to move now.

Straightening slowly so she wouldn’t pass out, Courtney pulled shallow breaths through her mouth; her nose was backed up, though she couldn’t pinpoint the blow that had broken it. They all started to blur together after a while. 

One foot in front of the other, Courtney began to walk. It was slow, excruciatingly so, but it was progress. Her sides crippled under every breath she forced into her body, and she hunched over, her still-cuffed wrists tucked tightly against her middle. Alex would need her, and—though she was loathe to admit it—she needed him too. 

Courtney hid behind an empty car while she canvassed the service station. Three cameras, seven blindspots, no patrons, one elderly lady behind the counter, and a sign proclaiming the store’s certified first-aid status. Easy. She eased herself down to the curb, keeping her back to the car, and reached into her hair for the bobby pin again. She bent the point of it to a ninety-degree angle and popped it into her mouth until she could manoeuvre the cuffs into the right position. She examined the lock: single.  _ Thank fuck.  _ She was still a little fiddly with double-locks. She slipped the pin into the lock until they released her then discarded them under the car and pulled herself up.

Stumbling through the automatic doors of the service station, Courtney lended her voice some of the hysteria she wouldn’t give herself over to. ‘Help,’ she croaked, getting the clerk’s startled attention. ‘Please, help me.’

Predictably, the old crone was around the counter and under Courtney’s arm in a flash. ‘Oh, honey. My heavens. What’s happened to you?’ 

‘Car crash.’ Courtney paused to gasp. ‘Few streets over. My boyfriend, he’s— oh god.’

The clerk pulled her phone out of her pocket and dialed 911. ‘Tell the police what happened. Did you see which street it was?’ Courtney shrugged, sobbing a little to sell it and the clerk was gone. Courtney hung up the phone once she was out of sight, instead dialing her brother’s latest number from memory. When she was met with nothing, she hung up and checked the signal. Four bars, it was definitely working on her end. She dialed her mother’s cell and was met with the same silence. Panic threatened to crush her, but she held fast to the reigns on her emotions. Alex was smart. He would be okay. He had to be okay. But the very real reality was that she may never see her brother again. Their mother had taught them how to cover their tracks too well.

Courtney considered placing one last call, to a number she’d sworn she’d never use, but she’d stalled long enough. She deleted the call history and set the phone aside, getting to work. 

She snatched a packet of dye, dental floss—not the minty kind—and a sewing kit, Courtney glanced around for something to hide the extent of her injuries. The only clothing the store provided were high-vis jackets in fluorescent orange or yellow. She sighed and grabbed a yellow one before leaving, careful to stay in the blindspots she’d ascertained earlier. Courtney hobbled across the street to and caught sight of a phone booth. One of the old ones that rang the number even if you didn’t pay, but didn’t give your end to the receiver. She placed one last call to the number she had never let herself forget. Just in case. She hoped her uncle had the ability to trace the signal and left the phone swinging on its coiled cord.

—

Courtney gave herself three days to recover. She squatted in three different houses in Brookings, just outside of California, stitching herself up in one, dying her light brown hair darker in another. Her reflection was a frightful thing. The skin on the left side of her face, as well as all down her side had been scraped away by the road. Her eyes were black from her broken nose, which was swollen, bulbous and unseemly. She wasn't quite as scarred as her brother, who had lived with their father's ministrations long before they'd left, but it still wasn't pretty. She'd been shot three times in her life, once on her back and twice by her collarbone. When Courtney moved her hair to clear away the cracking, dried blood on her neck, she gasped. Carved into the side of her neck was the word "princess." 

Rage choked her. Courtney didn't care if she was scarred or mangled or unsightly. But this? This disfigurement of her skin, branding her as the thing Lola had taunted her with as a child? It was unforgiveable. She parted her hair over to the side, thankful when it was just long enough to hide the crude letters. Lola was going to die for this, and it was going to be by Courtney's hand.

Once she’d healed about as well as she was going to, Courtney took her plastic bag of stolen goods and got back on the move. She had no idea where her brother was, whether he was still alive, whether her father hadn’t come back for her because he had Alex instead. Courtney stamped down on the thought and kept moving forward. 

Her mother had trained her, and she’d trained her well. Never be in one place for too long, never be one person for too long, and be anyone but yourself. Another lesson was to always be prepared, which is why Courtney kept an emergency fifty in her sock. She got it broken up into smaller change and bought a bus ticket to anywhere, staying on it until the line ended at a train station. Trains were generally riskier than busses; there were more monitors to dodge, but Courtney didn’t look like Courtney anymore. 

Now she had blue-black hair and her natural eyes, empty and grey. She hid her face behind some cheap reading glasses and a cap, and boarded a train for Portland. Courtney hadn’t intended on going back to Seattle, but she needed to see if Alex had left her any clues, any arrows pointing at where to find him next. Probably not, but there was nothing else to be done.

One day—and change—later, Courtney got off the train in Portland and boarded a bus to Olympia, she scrutinised the passengers as they boarded and froze when a very drunk man boarded the bus and tried to pay for his ticket with a one-hundred-dollar bill. Courtney waited until he passed her and the aisle was clear, then she ran off into the night. 

Her stitches were probably popping right out of her skin, but Courtney couldn’t afford to slow down. A beefy arm wrapped around her and she gasped when her stitches tugged. 

A vaguely familiar, British voice came from behind her. ‘Rada! Don’t!’ Courtney ignored it. 

‘I’m being careful with her, boss.’ The guy holding Courtney spoke with a Russian accent. And, fortuitously, his crotch was right at elbow-height. She’d always hated Russians. 

Courtney drove her elbow into Rada’s groin and spun to slam the heel of her hand into his chin—she’d been aiming for his nose—when he let her go. 

The voice had caught up to them. ‘I wasn’t worried about her, you daft bastard. I know who trained her.’ 

Courtney whirled around, her eyes wildly scanning for the source of that voice, she zeroed in on a short, lean man with blond hair and eyes a shade of grey she was very well-acquainted with. ‘Uncle Stuart?’ She asked, incredulously. She hadn’t really believed he would find her when she called.

Stuart had changed since she’d last seen him seven years ago, but not by much. He was still leath, and evidently sharp judging by his correct judgement of just how dangerous Courtney was. The changes weren’t so much physical. There was a wariness in his eye, a caution that hadn’t been there before, and lines furrowing his brow. Worry for his sister had certainly taken a toll on the man.

‘So it really is you,’ he breathed. ‘Where’s your mother? Your brother?’

Courtney bit her lip and shook her head once. ‘Not here.’

Courtney had meant two things by her words. Her mother and brother weren’t here, nor could she speak freely in the middle of the street.

Stuart seemed to comprehend her double meaning. ‘Of course. Will you come with us, or do we have to take you?’

Courtney might have bristled at the way he made it seem like she had any say in the matter, but she was exhausted. She’d been running on fumes for the past week, her body still weak from the beating it had taken in Seattle. She didn’t have any fight left in her. 

The guy Courtney had taken down was slowly recovering and he followed behind her to a shiny silver car. Courtney and Stuart got in the back—the doors locking behind them instantly—and Rada folded himself into the passenger seat. A woman with dark hair was behind the wheel and she patted Rada’s hand before driving off. 

‘You okay, lyubimiy?’

Rada rubbed his neck. ‘I think she gave me whiplash.’ He shifted to regard her with unexpected approval. ‘What gave me away?’

Courtney huddled closer to the door. ‘No self-disrespecting drunk would ever have a hundred dollar bill without spending it on liquor.’ Rada nodded, taking the note and turning back to the front. 

Stuart kept his eyes busy, looking anywhere but at Courtney when he said, ‘You can speak now, Mary. What happened?’ Courtney flinched at the sound of her real name, and it didn’t escape Stuart’s attention. ‘Your mother used to call you by your middle name, didn’t she?’ There was no room for anything gentle in the life of a gangster, but Stuart managed to sound somewhat soft. 

Courtney nodded. ‘Dinah,’ she said. 

Her mother always resented the fact that the two of them shared a name. Calling her daughter by her middle name had been a small act of rebellion against her husband, a slight excision to keep mother and daughter separate. Mary had been afraid of Nathaniel turning into Nathan, but she hadn’t been keen on the idea of Dinah turning into Mary either.

‘I remember your name, Dinah,’ Stuart said, and Dinah exhaled, a small bit of tension lifting from her shoulders. 

‘I don’t know where to start,’ she whispered, her voice carrying through the quiet car. Dinah absently noted that she’d forgotten what the inside of an expensive car looked like. Her mother had never let them steal anything this nice.

Stuart was all business when he spoke again. ‘What happened in Seattle?’

Even though she was exhausted and secrecy was an intrinsic part of her very existence after seven years of lies, Dinah told them all she could. 

At one point her eyes closed, seemingly of their own accord, her voice continuing to give shape to the images that played through her mind. Of her mother, beaten and bloody; her father, furious and grimly satisfied; her brother… 

The last time she’d seen him he’d been Alex. He’d had dark brown hair and murky green contacts in place to hide his natural, brilliant blue; the blue he couldn’t stand to look at lest he become their father. Never mind that he was nothing like the man in the slightest. Alex had been wide-eyed and fearful as they both waited for their mother to return. The house they’d been squatting at was under construction and the footprints in the mud had set their mother on edge. She left, scouting it to see if it was safe, and she hadn’t come back.

_ ‘If I’m not back in five minutes, or you see any sign of trouble, you go,’  _ Courtney had told Alex, pressing the car keys firmly into his palm.  _ ‘Do you understand me? Five minutes.’  _

Her brother had looked back at her, fury apparent in every shadowed line of him.  _ ‘Fine.’ _

She knew he’d never leave them behind, no matter what they told him. How he could ever compare himself to their father boggled her mind.

‘…Last I saw them, Mom was getting back to the car. She would have made him leave without me,’ Dinah finished, her words slurred and sluggish.

Stuart was shaking his head. He sounded strained when he said, ‘No. No, Mary would never have left you behind like that. She would have come back for you if she was alive.’ 

While Dinah agreed that her mother must be dead, clearly her uncle had some delusions about the kind of woman his sister had become. Dinah was too tired to get properly disgruntled, but she felt the seeds of irritation settling in her gut. Her mother had ruined their lives. She’d been too cowardly to leave until it was much too late, then subjected her children to a half-life of falsehoods. Her brother had probably been too young to remember anything different, and he had always been in more danger than Dinah. 

Nathaniel had always been more than her. His eyes a brighter blue, his hair a darker auburn. A greater disappointment, a bigger threat, a dangerous liability when they were on the run; the one that needed saving. Dinah was dragged along, an ancient reminder of her mother’s once-human side, as the child she couldn’t bear to leave behind.

Spending seven years stealing moments of sleep in every conceivable space imaginable meant that Dinah was inclined to crash in any place, at any time. Now, rocked by the smooth journey of the car and cradled by the rich leather seats, her fatigue finally caught up to her, and Dinah slipped into unconsciousness before anyone could ask her anything else. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tune in next time for: Dinah. 
> 
> Please leave a kudos and/or a comment if you like this so far. As the queen, Maggie Stiefvater, says: "It makes me write faster."  
> To stay posted, you can subscribe or follow [my tumblr](https://m-ercey.tumblr.com/) where I post updates :)  
> Much love to you all!! <3


	3. Dinah

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting a couple of days early because I'm going to be busy on the usual day. I hope you guys enjoy this update!! Thanks for all the lovely comments to far, you guys are too kind. <3

Dinah landed in London with a new identity. “Dinah Hatford.” It was treacherously easy to trace it back to her true name, but Dinah was done hiding. Her life was in someone else’s hands now, and it wasn’t Uncle Stuart’s. 

Stuart thought Dinah hadn’t noticed him sneaking off to take calls, but he always returned ten times more emotionally removed than before he’d left. Dinah knew what he was doing. It was something she’d done every day of her life on the run; he was trying not to get attached. Dinah had no idea what kind of mess she'd managed to get herself into now, but it didn't matter either way, she hadn’t let herself feel safe. To her, safety was nothing more than a fairy tale. What bothered her most about the situation was the suspense. Living or dying was inconsequential, it wasn’t like she had anything left. Her brother had the means and the capabilities to stay hidden forever. If he was alive she would never find him, so long as he didn’t want to be found.

Rada and Helena—the driver from Portland—were a married couple from Russia who worked for Stuart. Dinah supposed they were kind of like lackeys, but with more free-will. Either they knew about Dinah’s survival hanging in the balance, or they were just _Russian_ , because they kept a mindful distance from her at all times. This was preferable, and Dinah thought they recognised that. Dinah was well-acquainted with the pity of others—she had relied on it more times than she cared to admit—but she wasn’t used to being understood. It waged a complicated war inside of her.

Living with Stuart in his sparsely decorated London townhouse was strange. Sleeping in an actual bed was alien. But having Rada and Helena, complete and utter strangers, silently respecting boundaries that she’d never consciously put into place? That was simply bizarre.

Dinah could tell when the decision of her fate had been finalised. It was when Stuart returned to the dining room after leaving in the middle of tea-time and—for the first time in weeks—he looked Dinah in the eye. 

‘Eat,’ he ordered, taking his seat at the head of the table.

Dinah pushed her potatoes around the plate. ‘I’m not hungry,’ she said mulishly. Her body still hadn’t adjusted to eating regularly. 

‘Maybe I’ll believe you when I can’t count your ribs.’ Stuart stabbed a piece of sausage with his fork. ‘Eat.’ Dinah rolled her eyes but, feeling generous in light of Stuart actually deigning to address her, scooped something green into her mouth. Stuart’s lips twitched. ‘You are your mother’s daughter.’

Dinah stiffened. ‘Actually, I’m smarter.’

‘How do you figure?’ Stuart turned his attention to the newspaper next to him and Dinah was tempted to answer: ‘I’m still alive,’ but refrained. Her old identity, Courtney Robach, had been cruel out of necessity, to stop any of her peers trying to get close to her or her family. Dinah Hatford, however, had no need for cruelty.

Instead, she shrugged, keeping her eyes trained on the plate. ‘I guess I’ll get to prove it to you, now that you don’t need to worry about having to kill me and all.’

When Dinah met Stuart’s eye across the table, he had the grace to look contrite. ‘You weren’t meant to know.’

‘I don’t need to be coddled,’ she informed him.

Stuart huffed a bitter laugh. ‘Where have I heard that before…’ His eyes returned to the newspaper.

Being compared to her mother was definitely making its way to the top of Dinah’s list of pet peeves. She almost missed the way her mother would flinch or freeze whenever Dinah did anything even faintly reminiscent of her. How her hand would clench on Dinah’s shoulder when a stranger made a passing comment regarding their likeness. 

Swallowing her annoyance, Dinah stared at her uncle, lightly tapping the prongs of her fork against the glass table, the metallic clang muffled through the tablecloth. 

He looked up from his paper after a half-minute of tapping. ‘Can I help you with something?’ 

Dinah peered at him shrewdly. ‘I thought the Hatfords ran their own organisation.’

Stuart returned her look over his wine glass, taking a sip before responding. ‘They do, for the most part.’ 

Thoughtful, Dinah put her fork down and cautiously said, ‘But you don’t.’ 

That earned her a displeased sigh from her uncle. ‘Dinah—’

‘I don’t need to be coddled,’ Dinah repeated, more forcefully this time. ‘Why was my survival contingent on someone else’s orders? Who’s higher up than a Hatford?’

‘A Moriyama,’ Stuart said after a moment, resigned. The name was enough to silence Dinah long enough for him to piece together an explanation. ‘I’m working with the first son to make preparations for when his father dies. Me and my people will be taking over the Butcher’s—’ Dinah flinched at the mention of her father. ‘—mantle as payment for being permitted to dispose of him.’ 

Dinah heard the words but they didn’t register until a beat later. ‘You’re going to kill him,’ she said, her tone flat and disbelieving.

Stuart nodded, a complicated look on his face as he studied her reaction, or lack thereof. ‘I was always going to kill him,’ Stuart admitted. ‘This way I can do it without getting myself offed in the process.’ 

A bitter feeling crept through Dinah, making her scowl. ‘So you’re the new Butcher?’ She spat the name like it was poison in her mouth.

‘No,’ Stuart said firmly. ‘We’re merely filling the void his absence will leave behind. The little Lord is running things differently. More subtle. Better. He’s got a focus on eliminating threats rather than making an example of them and he needs a new right-hand to fit that regime.’ Stuart gestured at himself. ‘He wants it to be me, and in return I get to do whatever I have to to take Wesninski out.’ 

Dinah stared at her uncle like he was something impossible, and maybe he was. No one should be able to speak about killing her father like it was easy. Yet, here he was, talking about it like it was nothing more than an errand to run. 

Heartbeat thrumming in her ears, Dinah asked, ‘Are you being serious?’ 

‘I know he’s your father—’ Stuart started, reading her reaction all wrong.

‘No,’ Dinah cut him off. ‘That man was never my father. If you’re serious I—’ her voice shook a little and she hid her trembling hands under the table. ‘I want to help.’

‘Absolutely not. Do you have any idea what your mother would do to me if I let you get involved in something like this?’

‘My mother isn’t here,’ Dinah reminded him, not unkindly. ‘And I make my own decisions.’

Wearily, Stuart pinched the bridge of his nose. It was the most emotion she’d seen from him since Portland. ‘Look,’ he began, ‘I know. You’re an adult now. I can’t stop you from doing anything. But,’ he paused, Dinah suspected for emphasis. ‘I can advise heavily against involving yourself in this particular gambit.’ 

Advising Dinah Hatford—no matter what name she bore—heavily against anything she’d set her sights on was a futile effort. Especially in this case. Dinah had been running from her father for most of her life; terrified of him for its entirety. If the man was going to die, she had to be there. She would need to see his lifeless body hit the floor if she was to have any hope of accepting that the monster that haunted her nightmares was really gone.

‘I’m helping.’

Stuart watched her quietly for a moment before speaking. ‘Dinah, you had your rump handed to you in Seattle.’ While her uncle’s words rankled her, his tone wasn’t accusatory or condescending. Frank, she decided, was a good word for Stuart. ‘You need to be trained for this kind of operation. Your hand-to-hand is passable, thanks to your mother, but how well can you handle a gun? A knife?’

‘I can handle knives just fine,’ Dinah said, her voice cold. ‘I’m a decent shot, and I still got away in Seattle, didn’t I?’ 

‘Barely,’ Stuart reminded her, ‘and you lost your brother in the process.’ Dinah’s lip curled as her gut twisted but Stuart raised his hands in surrender before she could spit something regrettable in his face. ‘I’ll make you a deal. You’ll train with Rada and Helena for however long it’ll take for me to get everything in order. When—and only when—they’re satisfied that you can be an asset and not a liability to the mission, I’ll reconsider.’

Dinah blew out a breath. ‘Fine.’

Stuart looked pained as he drained his wine-glass in one long pull. ‘Finish your food,’ he ordered as he stood. Dinah made herself finish every damn bite.

— 

‘Again!’

Dinah had to hand it to him. Stuart's plan to have Helena train her was a merciless hazing ritual. The woman could rival her mother in brutality, though she was beginning to suspect that Mary Hatford had always taken it easy on her.

A little over a month passed before Stuart had let her training commence but he’d assured her that it would take a lot of planning to secure a plan to take down her father. She had time to get better. Time she desperately needed. 

Pushing herself off the hard, carpet-over-concrete ground of the basement in Uncle Stuart’s house, Dinah settled back into the loose battle stance her mother had taught her. She remembered her brother in the same position, standing at her side as their mother drilled a few basic moves into them. Defensive moves designed to be versatile enough that muscle-memory would kick in no matter what danger they were in. Once, when they were holed up in a motel room with nothing to do, she and her brother had pushed the furniture aside and had an impromptu sparring match. Their mother had been furious.

 _‘You can’t afford to look at your brother as an enemy, even for a game. Your job is to_ always _protect him.’_

If only her mother could see her now. Nathaniel-less and without purpose.

Helena shook her head. ‘No, no, no. Look at you.’ She pulled Dinah over to a window. The outside had been painted black so she could see her reflection in it. ‘You are ready to defend yourself. That might have worked against golovorezy on the streets, but it will _not_ against Wesninski’s people.’ Helena’s hands were firm on her shoulders, her Russian consonants clipped and efficient. All of the people in Stuart’s circle referred to her father as “Wesninski” and never included Dinah under his name. As far as they were concerned, she was every bit a Hatford, and she could only show her appreciation by proving them right. Dinah switched her posture up, leaning forward instead of back, her legs further apart, her shoulders loose and her arms tense; poised to strike.

Helena nodded her approval and Dinah didn’t wait for her to return to her position. She grabbed Helena’s wrist and spun, twisting Helena around until her arm was trapped behind her back. Helena grunted before kicking Dinah’s legs out from under her and sending her to the ground. Her arm now free, Helena followed her down, fingers pressing loosely around her neck. ‘And you’re at my mercy,’ she said reproachfully.

Swallowing under Helena’s hand, Dinah fought against the memory that threatened to resurface: her father’s face replacing Helena’s above her, his unyielding grip eclipsing Helena’s light one. She knocked Helena’s hand aside easily and sat up, groaning in frustration. 

Helena settled on her right side, flicking her glossy, dark hair over her shoulder. ‘You will learn, kiska. You are already learning.’ 

But it wasn’t enough. Stuart was making progress with the plan and Dinah would have to be ready. She sighed. ‘I’ve got a lot of work to do, don’t I?’ 

Nudging her side, Helena said, ‘You will get where you need to be in time. I will make sure of it.’

Dinah wasn’t a trusting person by nature, but she hoped Helena was telling the truth. For now she just hooked a leg over Helena’s torso in an attempt to push her back and pin her to the ground, only for Helena to catch Dinah’s ankle and roll her onto her stomach, pressing a knee painfully into her spine.

Definitely a lot of work to be done.

— 

Training at the shooting range with Rada was much more preferable to Helena’s special brand of humiliation. Dinah hadn’t lied when she told Stuart that she was a decent shot, but she’d only ever fired a gun in close-range, when her adrenaline was pumping and her life was on the line. Her first few attempts to hit a stationary target were pitiful.

‘It’s okay,’ Rada said, catching her disgruntled look. ‘It’s doing me good to see that you’re bad at something.’

Dinah rolled her eyes. ‘I want to try again.’ 

Rada reset the target and stood back to watch her fire all the rounds, hitting a little closer to the bullseye now that she knew what to expect from the kick-back of the handgun. He stepped forward to adjust her balance slightly before retreating and instructing her to try again.

Her arms ached something terrible the next day, but it felt good to actually be able to chart the progress she was making with bullet-holes getting closer to bulls-eyes. Her training with Helena wasn’t going half so well. 

Dinah’s back hit the rough carpet, which did nothing to cushion her from the hard floor, and knocked the wind from her. Helena stood over her. ‘That was much better,’ she said.

‘Still not good enough,’ Dinah grumbled and hauled herself back to her feet. 

‘No,’ Helena allowed, her voice patient. ‘But better. Should we take a break?’

Dinah narrowed her eyes at her. ‘You just want alone-time with your husband.’

Across the room, Rada laughed from where he sat perched on an upturned bin. ‘I’m fine watching, krasotka.’

Dinah had been at this for months, but she was yet to best Helena. She was just too quick. All Dinah had to do was twitch slightly in one direction and Helena would seize the opening without hesitation, somehow always putting Dinah “at her mercy.” Dinah was starting to hate the phrase.

‘When will you stop holding back?’ Helena asked.

Dinah gritted her teeth. ‘I am not holding back,’ she growled, her lungs slowly remembering how to take a breath. ‘You’re too fast.’

Quirking an eyebrow, Helena said, ‘Stop focusing on how fast I am and start seeing how slow you are.’ Dinah bristled and Helena looked at her thoughtfully. ‘You are too slow with your fists. You need to either hit with a flat hand—’ She demonstrated, grabbing Dinah by the wrist with one hand and making a sharp chopping action at her throat with the other, stopping just before making contact. ‘—or you need something in your fist.’ And then Helena reached behind her and placed a knife in Dinah’s hand.

Dinah’s fingers wrapped around it, recalling the correct grip she’d been taught, instinctively. It didn’t matter that her brain was screaming at her to drop it, her body knew what to do.

‘I’m not using this,’ Dinah said quietly, unable to meet Helena’s eye. 

Helena’s voice cut like the knife in Dinah’s hand. ‘Because your father uses them?’ It was the first time in months that anyone had referred to Nathan Wesninski as Dinah’s father. She hadn’t missed the hot burn of shame that always came with the reminder. 

‘You don’t know the kind of damage—’ Dinah broke off, she could feel the intent gazes of Helena and Rada, so she made herself meet them. Her eyes were bone-dry and there was venom in her voice when she continued. ‘Knives and the people who wield them have seriously fucked up my life, okay? I’m not using one.’

The puzzled look Helena was giving her suddenly made Dinah remember just how young the Russian woman was. Helena was eight years younger than her mother, but she was hardened and composed in a way her mother had never been. Dinah supposed living with unrelenting fear had made Mary Hatford seem younger than she was.

‘You are scared of knives,’ Helena whispered, as though she couldn’t quite believe it.

Dinah thought of her brother. How, when they were kids, he would return from a training session with Lola or their father, his torso littered with fresh wounds; marks of the lessons he would need to learn. Dinah used to sneak into his bedroom and hold his hand while the family doctor clumsily pulled Nathaniel back together. Nathaniel’s cries rang through her ears, blending with Chris’, with Stefan’s, with Alex’s. When Dinah held the knife in her hand, all she could see were her brother’s scars. 

‘I’m scared of becoming what they tried to make me into,’ Dinah amended quietly.

Helena’s bony fingers folded around hers, making her grip tighter around the knife’s handle. ‘You can choose what you become with that blade. You can become what they want you to be, or you can take the weapon they gave you and use it to destroy them.’ 

Helena let go and Dinah twirled the knife, almost experimentally, catching it securely when it flicked back into her palm. Helena’s grin and Rada’s raised eyebrows were comforting enough to relax some of the tension coiled between her shoulder blades. She nodded to Helena and watched as the woman drew a second knife from the back of her belt.

— 

From a young age, Dinah had learned how to spot a cop. She could basically tell anyone’s occupation after a quick scan of their physiognomy. Facial expressions said a lot about a person: whether they were rich or poor, anxious or confident, curious or indifferent; whether they were likely to pose a threat to her cover. Cops always reeked of arrogance but it was masked by a layer of false, gentle authority. Like they were purposefully emitting an approachable impression, but were unable to truly mask their own self-importance.

The guy having coffee with her uncle one morning, was unmistakably a cop. 

Dinah had heard the murmur of low voices before she turned the corner to the kitchen, one of them her uncle’s, the other American. She’d been contemplating listening in when Stuart addressed her from out of sight. 

‘You can come out, Dinah, but don’t say a word.’

The cop had been less than pleased. He claimed to be Agent Browning of the FBI, and said it like the title meant a lot to him. _It’s all he has left,_ Dinah surmised, observing the tan-line from a wedding ring that Browning no longer wore. He ran his eyes over her baggy-grey-t-shirt-and-sweatpants ensemble. _Affair with a younger woman,_ Dinah added to her the character profile she was drawing up in her head, assessing the way his arms hung loosely and his eyes monitored her uncle’s every move before getting herself some food. _Not a threat,_ she eventually decided.

She waited for the two men to continue their conversation, but it seemed to be over. Stuart led Browning to the door and returned, wearily rubbing his eyes. Dinah munched on her toast and stared him down. 

‘Since when do you work with the feds?’ Dinah asked, when it became clear that Stuart wasn’t volunteering any explanation.

Through gritted teeth, he said, ‘Since when do you get to speak to me like that?’

Dinah closed herself down. Stuart had never spoken to her like that before, not in the many months she’d been living with him. ‘Since when do _you_ speak to _me_ like that?’ she shot back.

Stuart pointed a finger. ‘I work with the Feds since Nathan Wesninski was arrested and put in a high security prison. And, if you don’t stow that attitude, I swear—’ It took a moment for the words to hit her, but when they did Dinah flinched back, dropping her toast. 

‘On what charges?’

‘Dinah—’

Dinah gritted her teeth. From the guilty look on Stuart’s face, she knew she looked afraid. ‘On. What. Charges.’

‘Nothing concrete.’ Stuart’s mouth twisted ruefully. ‘Nothing that’ll keep him away for long.’

Having heard enough, Dinah swiftly backed out of the kitchen and into the bathroom down the hall, locking the door behind her. ‘Dinah.’ Dinah ignored her uncle, trying desperately to get her breathing in check. ‘Mary.’ Stuart’s voice was softer that time, but the name he called her was sharp, cutting through her panic.

‘Oh, piss off.’ It was hard to sound vicious around a throat that was rapidly closing over. At the sound of her uncle’s retreating footsteps, Dinah sat on the edge of the bathtub, her heart pounding and her pulse ringing in her ears. ‘Damn it,’ she muttered to the tiles at her feet. 

Her father wouldn’t be in prison for long, but this threw a spanner in their plan. The plan which was already crumbling after Hitchener’s stunt the other week. The Hatfords had teamed up with several other gangs to take down Wesninski, as they could never take all his men with their own meagre numbers. Stuart had called in favours with three of Wesninski’s rivals: Hitchener, DuBoi, and Miller. Of course, Hitchener just had to mess with things.

Stuart had come home livid, though this was only apparent by the tension between his brows and the way it seemed to cost him to close the door softly. Dinah had tried staring him down then too, but he’d remained impassive. She’d returned to the exy game she’d been watching—idly wondering if Nathaniel was somewhere out there, watching a game as well—and resolved to ask Helena about it after they’d trained the next morning. Dinah was getting better, so Helena rewarded her questions with answers. 

‘Don’t tell the boss, but Hitchener went and made himself enemy number one to one of Wesninski’s allies.’ 

Dinah frowned. ‘What happened?’

With a roll of her eyes that bespoke the age-old sentiment of “fucking _men,”_ Helena explained. ‘Hitchener got pissed off by one of them and took the man's wife, they only realised she was pregnant after they’d finished torturing her to death.’

Dinah grimaced. Even for them, torturing pregnant women and killing babies was grim. ‘Why do they never just take out the person that screwed them? Why do they go after the wives or daughters or whatever?’ Dinah asked, anger colouring her tone.

While Helena nodded as though she agreed, she said, ‘That’s the Wesninski way.’

Well, if there was one thing Dinah and her father could agree on…

‘Why are you working with my uncle?’ Dinah asked, abruptly switching topics in an attempt to keep her mind from wandering to dark places. Helena looked at her curiously, so Dinah continued. ‘You never knew my mother, this isn’t about vengeance for you. Why work for Stuart when his entire organization are going to be Moriyama’s people pretty soon?’

Helena pursed her lips while she considered her answer carefully. ‘When Rada and I first left Russia, your uncle took us in. He’s—’ she paused to ponder her word choice, ‘—more compassionate than most others in this field. Rada and I wanted to be together without being used against one another, we trust Stuart, and we also owe much to him.’

‘So, it’s a debt thing?’ Dinah asked.

Helena tilted her head. ‘It’s a faith thing. Don’t you have faith in your uncle?’

Dinah didn’t have anything to say to that. The only person she’d ever put her faith in was dead.

‘Come on,’ Helena said. ‘Let’s not see if you can get me at _your_ mercy for a change.’

— 

The first time Dinah got Helena “at her mercy,” was almost a year after her training commenced. Both of them were in top form and, for once, that was enough. Enough for Dinah to knock the blade from Helena’s hand and kick her knees in, pinning Helena beneath her and pressing her own knife to Helena’s throat when they landed. 

Helena’s pleased smile echoed Dinah’s. 

‘Now, _that_ is what I’m talking about,’ Helena said once Dinah hauled her to her feet. ‘I was wondering when you were going to stop taking it easy on me.’

Dinah hadn’t thought she’d been taking it easy on Helena at all, but maybe she had. Winning seemed to unlock something in her and she was able to see openings in Helena’s fighting style that weren’t obvious before. The boost of confidence made her more brutal and she wondered about it. Had her mother’s instruction to never look at her brother as an enemy make her pull her punches on Helena?

That night, in her modest bedroom, Dinah caught a glimpse of her reflection and startled, but didn’t flinch away. She’d never had the same issues with her appearance as Nathaniel; Dinah had always looked just enough like each parent to somehow escape looking much like either of them. When you looked closely, the similarities were there. The Wesninski square jaw and lack of cheekbones, the Hatford eyes, the dark blonde hair that was a combination of Nathan’s and Mary’s and looked dirty rather than pretty. Her father had used to tell her that he would have to pay someone to take her off his hands one day, that she wasn’t pretty enough to be sold for much. Dinah had cried about her appearance exactly once, to her mother. Any other mother might have reassured her daughter with false praises. Mary Hatford had told her to count her blessings. _“The prettiest faces are the most fun to break.”_

On the run, Dinah had only had time for cursory glances in mirrors, mostly to check her roots or whatever injuries she’d recently sustained. Now she stopped and peered at the stranger looking back at her. Her face was the same but no longer lined with terror. Her hair was longer, thicker, healthier; the result of proper treatments and a better diet. She’d dyed it blonde when she first came to London because the black had started turning green and ghastly. Her dirty roots had grown in and blended with the faded blonde so it was lighter on the top and darker around the base of her neck; concealing Lola’s brand that ran from jaw to collarbone. _Princess._

Tearing her gaze from her neck, Dinah examined her arms. They were muscular beneath the raw, ruined skin from when she’d rolled out of her father's moving car with nothing but her tank top to protect her. She was still thin, but no longer wiry. Dinah would never call herself pretty, and she’d never been vain, but her appearance was undoubtedly improved. 

The feral child she’d been before was nowhere to be seen, and this savage woman had taken her place. She looked like her mother had, years before they’d run. Mary would have hated the way her daughter turned out, so Dinah decided she liked it.

—

Stuart’s pacing footsteps and hushed words roused Dinah. She glanced at her alarm clock. _3:19am._ Even for Stuart, this was an early start. Dinah lifted her head off the pillow so she could listen with both ears, trying to make out what he was saying.

‘You’re sure?’

Pause.

‘Helena, not last month you said—’

Pause.

‘And if she gets hurt?’

Longer pause. A sigh.

‘I know she’s not, but—’

Dinah tired of the one-sided conversation quickly. She kicked the blanket off and crawled out of bed, opening her bedroom door to see her uncle’s silhouette hunched over his phone. He jerked around at the sound of the doorknob turning and looked at Dinah with tight eyes.

‘It looks like my decision has been made for me,’ he said into the receiver and hung up.

‘Helena?’ Dinah asked warily.

Stuart nodded. ‘Wesninski’s getting released tomorrow. Are you in or out?’ There was no pause between the statement and question, the only evidence of her uncle’s tension.

Dinah crossed her arms. ‘In.’ She kept her face neutral when she asked, ‘What did Helena say to convince you?’

Stuart’s smile was a bitter thing. ‘That you need to see it; that I need to let you.’ He paused before adding, ‘That you’re not your mother.’

‘Smart woman, that one,’ Dinah said, turning on her heel.

‘We leave in an hour.’

Dinah’s heart began to pound.

—

Their plane touched down in Martin State Airport at 8:30am that morning, though it was past lunch time back in London. Helena and Rada met them on the tarmac in a subtly expensive Nissan, and drove them to a safehouse where everyone on the mission would congregate. They were the first ones there.

Hands clammy with sweat, Dinah clasped them in front of her as she sat on an old futon. Stuart sat down beside her. ‘I didn’t know you were religious,’ he remarked.

Dinah scowled. ‘I’m not praying. This is just a lot.’

“A lot” was probably still an understatement. Dinah touched her interlocked knuckles to her mouth and blew out a long breath. She would watch her father die today. It probably wouldn’t be by her own hand, but someone would kill him. She would watch the life bleed out of him. She found herself hoping it would be slow and had to swallow the urge to gag. Dinah hadn’t been born malicious, life had turned her into this; her father had turned her into this, and he would die for that—and for his many other innumerable injustices—today. Dinah wasn’t sure that anyone was ever ready to watch their father die, but she certainly wasn’t.

‘It isn’t too late to back out, you know,’ Stuart said. His face was calm when she glanced at it. He wouldn’t judge her if she said she couldn’t do this, but Dinah was never one to turn down a challenge.

‘Who’s backing out?’ she asked, her words a dare.

Stuart gave her the look he often gave her when she did something that reminded him of his sister. Whatever he’d seen had made him sigh before backing off. 

As more people arrived, Dinah grew more tense. It still didn’t feel real, not even when Stuart gave them all a briefing and her father’s mugshot glared out at her from a black-and-white print-out. She stared at it. That man would be dead by tomorrow. She would see the life leave those eyes. It didn't feel real.

It wasn’t real until she was in the backseat of the Nissan, gazing out the window at the house she’d run away from when she was fourteen, that it started to sink in. Dinah gripped her uncle’s arm. 

‘I can’t do it.’

It hurt more than she thought it would to admit. The look of pity in Stuart’s eyes was horrible. The look of disappointment in Helena’s was worse. 

‘Do you trust me?’ Stuart asked and Dinah heard the unspoken question behind it. _Will you believe me if I tell you that he’s really dead?_

The things Helena had said about faith came back to her. Did Dinah have faith in Stuart? Thus far, he’d been as transparent as he could afford to be. He had helped her get this close. He never pushed, and he never hurt her.

Finally, Dinah nodded and Stuart patted her hand, still clutching his arm. ‘It’s okay. You did well to get this far.’

With a grimace, Dinah let go of him, leaning back and staring out at her old house. The lights were on, cop cars littered the road, and there was a small commotion further down the street. _Clever,_ Dinah thought, grudgingly impressed. Everyone knew Nathan Wesninski had the MDPD eating out of his blood-stained hands. Cop cars were the perfect way to transport things, or people. 

‘Do you think he’s going to make a run for it with the coppers?’ Dinah asked, her voice smaller than she would have liked.

Stuart frowned. ‘My source says he’s taking care of some business. We’ll get him before he has a chance to leave.’

Nodding, Dinah went silent. Everything was deadly silent in the muffled interior of the car, only her burning shame buzzing around her. 

Stuart shot forwards, but Dinah missed whatever he’d seen. ‘That’s the signal. Let’s move.’ He hesitated outside the car. ‘Dinah, get behind the wheel. You see any trouble, you floor it. Got it?’

‘Got it,’ Dinah said, blinking away years worth of memories of her mother’s voice saying something similar, and climbing over the center console to get in the driver’s seat. She watched Stuart, Rada and Helena dart up the driveway, guns out and at the ready, Stuart silently signalling the rest of their swarm. They were headed for the basement. 

The basement was where Nathan Wesninski took care of most of his “business,” and it was only fitting that he would be taken care of there too. 

Around five minutes later, Stuart fell into the passenger seat beside her, looking shaken. ‘Go.’ 

Dinah was curious but obeying orders was too reflexive for her to stall. She started the engine as soon as Rada and Helena got in the back. ‘What happened?’ she asked, peeling out of the street. When she was met with silence, Dinah really started to worry. ‘Uncle Stuart, what happened?’ she asked more insistently.

‘Nathaniel’s alive.’

Stuart said the words like a groan. Like he heaved them out of his chest after being gut-punched. Dinah thought she knew the feeling. 

‘Come again?’ she asked, blinking as she drove. ‘What did you just say?’

‘Wesninski had your brother.’ The words came spilling out of Stuart now. ‘We were just in time. Shit. _Shit._ If we’d have waited three _seconds—’_

Dinah had never seen her uncle this rattled. ‘What? We need to go back for him! Is he okay?’

The car slowing down pulled Stuart out of his panic. ‘The Feds have to take him. No, Dinah, listen to me,’ he said when the car idled on the side of the road. ‘Nathaniel can feed them information, he knows who not to mention. He’ll serve as a distraction while we all deal with the fallout from this.’

‘No!’ Dinah yelled, aghast. ‘He’s _owned_ by them. They’ll find him.’

‘Boss,’ Rada said tensely from behind Dinah. 

Dinah ignored him. ‘We are not _leaving_ him there with the fucking Feds. Not after he’s just faced off against— Not after—’ Dinah’s voice broke in something like a sob, but her eyes were free of tears. ‘I’m not leaving him again.’

‘Be sensible,’ Helena said lowly from the back. ‘If you go back there they will take you as well and everyone we’ve been keeping you from will know that you are still alive. It will only cause more trouble for you both.’

Knowing that Helena was right didn’t make leaving any easier. Protecting Nathaniel was in Dinah’s blood. For years her sole purpose was to keep him safe. A connection tied the two of them together and Dinah felt it tightening around her chest as she drove further and further away. But Dinah had three people in the car relying on her to get them to safety, and Nathaniel had survived this far on his own .

Stuart patted her knee awkwardly when she pushed her foot back to the gas pedal. ‘We’ll get him,’ he promised. ‘We’ll find a way.’

Dinah clung to his words, as well as what was left of her fast-fading composure.

_He’s alive._

Dinah could only hope Nathaniel would forgive her for this one day, she hoped they would get that chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaand we're all caught up!! The next chapter is the one that I think most of you have been waiting for... Yes, that's right: The Reunion!!  
> Thanks again for all the love and support. Please leave a kudos or chuck a comment down below if you like this so far!! Love to you all <3
> 
> Translations for the Russian words in this chapter:  
> golovorezy - thugs  
> kiska - kitten  
> krasotka - dear


	4. Reunited

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's heeeeeere. I'm back at uni now so updates will probably be a little more sporadic. Hope you guys enjoy this chapter!! <3

One week following the announcement of Riko Moriyama’s death, Andrew Minyard was dragged back to the Foxhole Court by two insufferable strikers. He watched from the stands as they worked their way through drills, some stolen from the Ravens, others of Kevin Day’s own invention. 

It didn’t matter how ridiculous Andrew thought it was, he knew these men needed their crutch. Even if that crutch was running around an exy court like pieces of a broken pinball machine. 

The last week had been hard on the entire team, but mostly on Kevin. The press was ravenous. _Ha._ Every sports reporter wanted a quote from Kevin Day, the man who had spent the better part of his formative years at Riko Moriyama’s side; who had been his Number Two for so long. 

This was expected. The second Neil had gotten Andrew alone and told him of the youngest Moriyama’s death—a satisfied smile on his annoyingly gorgeous face—Andrew had known what it would mean for Kevin. What was unexpected was how well Kevin had held it together. How easily he gave calm and appropriately compassionate answers, referencing Riko’s fragile mental state, as that was the tragic tale the Moriyamas were spinning. 

Neil had given exactly one interview before Wymack banned him from interacting with reporters. Andrew supposed it was on account of the one comment about “hoping Riko was in a better place.” It was a harmless enough sentiment, but the tone in which it was delivered was a little too caustic to be mistaken for genuinity. It gave Andrew a small nudge of amusement, deep down inside his chest, to think about.

Andrew let his mind go blank as he lost himself in the monotony of the strikers’ movements. Catch, run, throw. Catch, run, throw. Catch, run, throw. It was almost hypnotic. 

The door to the common room opened and Andrew looked up, expecting to see Wymack swearing at them for being back on court when they were meant to be taking a break. Instead, Andrew’s gaze fell on a woman. Blonde. Too short to be Reynolds. A stranger. 

Standing and thumbing the outline of the knife concealed in his armband, Andrew slowly edged his way up the stands. He got within a few yards of her when the woman’s pale eyes snapped from the court to him. There was a flash of recognition before she scarpered off. Andrew made to follow her when Neil—impossibly attentive to Andrew’s every move—pounded his gloved fist against the plexiglass. 

Andrew hesitated before reluctantly jogging down the stairs to let Neil out. He was brought up short by the look on Neil’s face. The last time Andrew had seen Neil look like that, he’d been pressing a key in his palm. Something was wrong.

‘Stay here,’ Neil told Andrew, and didn’t that just soothe Andrew’s bad feeling…

‘Neil,’ Kevin protested, taking off his helmet as well, but he froze at the look Neil served him.

‘Clean up, Kevin.’ Neil looked beseechingly at Andrew. ‘I mean it. You’re not following me.’

The thing about Neil was that he didn’t give orders often, not unless he was stressed out or on the court. Andrew was reminded of when Neil’s locker had been rigged with a blood bag and how Neil had remained cool and in-command while saturated in gore. That Neil took over now as he ran past Andrew, leaving Kevin to look curiously after him. 

When Kevin turned his look to Andrew, as though he could provide some insight, Andrew just said, ‘You heard him. Clean up, Kevin.’

Andrew had information to get. Information that, with any luck, could be found in the parking lot.

— 

At first, Neil had thought he’d seen his mother. He’d glanced Andrew’s way and found him moving slowly up the stands towards a ghost; towards the woman Neil had burned on a beach in California, whose bones he buried in the sand. 

Then his rational thinking kicked in and he recognised her. It wasn’t his mother. He was looking at his sister. 

Neil let Kevin’s pass sail by him as he bolted for the door, pounding on it to be let out. After telling both Andrew and Kevin to stay put, Neil raced up the stairs, through the door he’d seen her vanish through, and into the common room. He froze. There she was. Leaning against the wall in a pale blue hoodie. She had a couple of healed scars on her cheek and chin that Neil had never seen before. Her blonde hair was in a messy disarray, her eyes clear and piercing and so, so familiar. 

‘You’re alive.’ It wasn’t what Neil had wanted to say, but the words seemed to spill from his lips and he couldn’t take them back.

His sister scoffed. ‘So are you.’ Her eyes were sharp. ‘Fuck knows how.’ 

Neil ignored the scorn in her voice to say, ‘You look like Mom.’ He said it so she knew he thought it was an idiotic move on her part.

‘And you look like you.’ Somehow his sister managed to sound both fond and disapproving at the same time and Neil startled. He’d been expecting her to say that he looked like their father, but she’d never believed Neil looked anything like him. Neil had forgotten that about her. 

Neil shrugged. ‘I guess we’re both stupid then.’

His sister’s features contorted in a scowl and it felt like Neil was hit with a wall of memories, all of his sister with that well-worn scowl. Through all of her many identities and personas, one thing had always remained the same: she prided herself on her intelligence, and would become sore if anyone insulted it. Seeing this familiar reaction drove reality home. _She really is alive._

‘The only stupid one here is you, you little—’ His sister’s angry words were cut off when Neil surged forward and pulled her against him. He briefly thought Nicky might be rubbing off on him, or maybe he was in shock, because Neil Josten wasn’t a hugger. It was a little awkward with his gear on, but he managed to draw his arms around her, her solid warmth reassuring him that she was indeed real.

His sister let out a surprised little breath before returning his embrace. Pressing her cheek against his shoulder pad, she brought a hand up to cradle the back of his head; the way she had held him when he was small. She was the small one now, and the realisation had Neil feeling something akin to what he presumed homesickness was like, not that he had any experience with that in the first place.

‘I thought you were dead,’ Neil eventually choked out. ‘She told me you were dead.’

He pulled back and caught a flash of bitterness across his sister’s face, just before it melted into contrition. ‘I knew you wouldn’t leave unless she did,’ she whispered, no evidence of an apology in her tone despite the implication that it was her idea to lie. 

Neil’s arms dropped to his sides as he felt anger flood through him. He hadn’t given himself time to decrypt the meaning behind her vague message— _“You bastard. See you soon.”_ — let alone how he felt about his sister’s survival and what it meant for him. If she was alive, it meant that his mother hadn’t seen her die. It meant that, when she was telling him “She’s dead,” and ordering him to drive away, they were abandoning her. He realised it wasn’t anger he was feeling. It was betrayal, with just a pinch of guilt.

‘So Mom lied?’ Neil kept his voice carefully blank but, of course, his sister heard the heat underneath it.

‘It was the only way.’ Mindful of his scars, she cupped Neil’s face between her palms, her look pleading when she continued, ‘You know what you’re like. You wouldn’t have even started the car if you thought I stood a chance of getting out.’

Neil reigned in his emotions, something that was becoming increasingly more difficult the longer he spent with his Foxes. ‘Well, clearly, you did have a chance,’ he stated, referencing her evident status of: alive.

Grimacing, his sister dropped her hands to her sides, mirroring Neil’s stance. ‘Not exactly. They did take me.’ She absently rubbed the side of her neck. ‘They just didn’t expect me to be able to get out of the trunk.’

Unbidden, a memory resurfaced of the night Neil had been taken after the game against Breckenridge, when Lola climbed into the trunk of the police car with him. When Lola wrapped her arms and legs around him and bit at the burns on his face. When she moved against him suggestively and whispered—

‘Neil.’

Neil turned his head, meeting Andrew’s gaze from where he’d just come in from outside. Neil had left Andrew on the court, so it was disorienting to see him come in from the opposite door, but disorientation soon gave way to shame. Neil had kept his sister’s existence from everyone. He’d laid the rest of himself bare and, so long as his sister was dead, there was no harm in keeping the memories of her for himself. Even if she was alive, Neil had reasoned that if she managed to stay hidden, she wouldn’t appreciate having her name scattered about. Neil had meant to tell Andrew about her but now she’d shown up before Neil had figured out how. Nodding to let Andrew know he was okay, Neil faced his sister’s mingled concern and caution. ‘I uh— I think they might’ve learned from that mistake.’ Catching his meaning, his sister’s lip curled in fury and Neil suddenly remembered that he wasn’t the only one to inherit a temper. 

‘We need to talk.’ Her eyes flicked over to Andrew. ‘Privately.’

Neil was about to respond when Kevin joined them, shoving the door open with a little more force than necessary. ‘Neil, did you see where Andrew—’ He broke off and his eyebrows shot up as he registered the unfamiliar—familiar—face in the room. _‘Mary?’_ he asked incredulously.

Neil’s sister flinched. ‘Hello, Kevin,’ she said, unhappily. ‘It’s been a minute.’

‘I—’ Kevin motioned towards Neil. ‘You said she was dead.’

‘At the time, I thought it was the truth,’ Neil said, much to his sister’s disdain. 

She shook her head at him. ‘No. Shut up.’ Her voice was quiet and deadly. ‘No more out of you until we’re alone.’ 

Now it was Neil’s turn to shake his head, overly aware of Andrew’s heavy gaze on him. ‘I don’t keep secrets from them.’ 

That forced a bitter huff out of his sister. ‘I don’t care. You and I are going to have a private, _extensive,_ talk about the choices you’ve made over the past year,’ she said, low and stern.

Neil felt anger bubble in his gut. He might not have made the wisest decisions, but he couldn’t complain about the results. His choices had led him to the Foxes, to Andrew, to his home. Neil couldn’t regret that. He met Andrew’s curious eye when he said, ‘Say what you want about my choices, I wouldn’t change them.’

Drawing herself up, his sister looked like she was about to say something cutting, but she deflated at the sight of something behind Neil’s shoulder. Neil turned to glance at the photo wall. There were a few more pictures that Dan had put up over the past week, including a blown-up team photo—an utter mess—featuring Neil laughing as Matt and Nicky tried to chair-lift a reluctant Kevin for the shot. Neil looked at it and saw his own smiling, scarred face as his sister was seeing it now; evidence that Neil had lived a life since they’d been separated. She had no idea what he’d been doing, had no idea of the person he was now, and it went the same way for her. 

‘Give me ten minutes,’ Neil finally conceded, stepping around his sister and catching Andrew’s eye. He nodded towards the locker room but needn’t have bothered. Andrew was already on the move. 

In the locker room, Neil put his foot up on the bench to untie his shoes and, when he stood straight again, he turned to find himself nose-to-nose with Andrew. 

‘You wouldn’t change your choices?’ Andrew asked, his words a challenge. ‘Any of them?’

Neil sighed. ‘Andrew—’

‘Not even the choice to keep a certain secret from me?’ 

‘I didn’t—’

‘Do not lie to me,’ Andrew all but growled and Neil stared at his cheek. ‘Because unless your mother was an infant bride, I fail to see how _that_ could be the famed “Mary Wesninski” that we’ve heard so much about.’ There was malice in Andrew’s tone now, which was better than blankness. He was angry, and it was Neil’s fault. 

‘She’s my sister.’

‘Unlike you, I have a working brain,’ Andrew sniped. ‘Why is she here?’

‘To talk.’ Neil sidestepped Andrew and began stripping off the rest of his gear. ‘Look. I should have told you about her, it just—’ The words got caught behind Neil’s tongue but Andrew was too interested in his explanation to interrupt. ‘—it hurt too much.’

As the pile of Neil’s gear grew higher, he told Andrew more. ‘We got separated before our mom died. Mom came back and said she was dead, I believed her, and then my mom died a few hours later while we were on the road.’ Neil swallowed thickly, those hours of fear still raw in his mind, no matter how much time had passed. ‘It wasn’t like with my mom. Mom died _for_ me, when Rik— when I found out why we were running, I realised my sister died _because_ of me. It was different. She never had a choice. I didn’t want to think about it, let alone talk.’

Andrew stared him down. ‘When did you learn she didn’t die?’

The way the question was phrased made Neil sigh. Andrew had noticed a lot more than he’d let on. ‘Lola asked me where she was,’ he said quietly, focusing on undoing the straps of his padding. ‘That meant she hadn’t died when I thought she did, but—’

‘That didn’t mean she was alive,’ Andrew finished for him. 

Neil met his eye and nodded. ‘She got a message to me before the game last week, through our uncle. I didn’t know if I could trust it, given who he works for now.’ 

‘So, you’ve suspected she was alive for a week.’

Nodding again, Neil faced Andrew. He wore nothing but his undershirt and briefs, yet he didn’t feel exposed; he never did with Andrew, even when he was giving him secret after secret. ‘I wasn’t expecting her to show up so soon. I thought we’d have time to deal with the fallout from Riko’s death before we’d have to deal with her.’ 

Andrew snorted humourlessly. ‘“We,”’ he scoffed. 

‘We,’ Neil confirmed. ‘Come with me to speak to my sister. Yes or—?’

‘No.’ That was all Andrew had to say, but he added, ‘It’d be a little cozy for three on her bike.’

Neil’s mouth formed an involuntary smile. ‘You already checked out her ride.’ 

‘I had to check out who it was registered to,’ Andrew corrected him. ‘Not many people can get you that keyed up. Apparently, “Dinah Hatford,” is one of them.’

The name gave Neil pause, and then horror flooded through him. Their mother had died rather than call their uncle for help. She hadn’t wanted either of them to have any more involvement in gangs. If Neil’s sister was going by her real middle name, and their mother’s maiden name…

‘Hypocrite,’ Neil muttered. He’d suspected that Stuart and his sister had been in contact. How else would his uncle have gotten her message to him? But if “Dinah Hatford” was his sister’s current identity, Neil sensed that she’d gotten herself into something. Her reluctance to talk with an audience seemed more significant now. 

She really wanted to talk about _Neil’s_ choices?

—

When Neil stepped into the shower, Andrew went to check on Kevin. He found the moron tossing a ball up and down in the spot where he’d left him. Kevin looked up and saw the question in Andrew’s stare.

‘She’s in the parking lot,’ Kevin said. 

Andrew raised an eyebrow. The fact that Kevin had immediately recognised the woman was irksome, and the uncomfortable reminder that Kevin still knew more about Neil—his past, anyway—than Andrew did, boded ill for him. He hadn’t felt like Kevin was in any immediate danger from the woman, but leaving Kevin unattended with someone from his past; someone who shared the last name of a man who worked for the Moriyamas, was careless of him, regardless of whether the woman was Neil’s sister.

Kevin somehow saw this unspoken question on Andrew’s face, and answered, ‘She didn’t talk to me. I’d rather not be involved with—’ Kevin gestured. ‘—all of that.’

Unfortunately for Neil, Andrew didn’t share Kevin’s sentiments. 

He found the woman leaning against a wall outside, illuminated in the dark by the glow of the stadium lights. She acknowledged his presence with an incline of her head. There was something quaint about the gesture. It was something Neil might have done. Andrew hated it. 

Curious, Andrew pulled out his pack of cigarettes and shook one into his hand. The woman spoke up. ‘Please, don’t.’ Her hands were balled into fists, and her jaw was locked. On principle, Andrew put the cigarette between his lips, snicked his lighter, and sucked the cherry to life. When he exhaled the first few pathetic wisps of smoke, she spoke again. ‘Aren’t you meant to be an athlete?’ She sounded annoyed. People were less likely to be cagey when they were annoyed, so Andrew decided this was a good thing.

‘What are you doing here, Mary?’ Andrew asked, keeping his eyes facing forward, though he didn’t miss the way she straightened. It wasn’t the same full-body flinch as earlier, when Kevin said her name, but it seemed like someone had the same issues with their name as— No. They weren’t the same.

‘“Mack” will do just fine, Andrew Joseph Minyard.’ 

Calling him by his full name was a power-play. “I know who you are, you know nothing about me.” Andrew knew this game well, he’d been playing it with Riko Moriyama for years, and look who’d won that one in the end.

Andrew decided to probe a little. ‘“Andrew” will do just fine, Dinah Hatford.’

“Mack” laughed, but there was no humour in it. There was nothing “Neil” about the sound; bitter, mocking, aggressive. It helped shape Andrew’s analysis of her immensely. 

‘You’re good,’ she said, eyeing him with her hands deep in the pockets of whatever piece of shit, blue hoodie she was wearing. ‘But you’re gonna need to forget you ever heard that name.’

Andrew sniffed loudly at the irony. ‘Couldn’t even if I was so inclined. I don’t take orders from Moriyama's lap dogs.’

A scuffled step towards him and Andrew’s cigarette was on the pavement, his knife unsheathed, its blade kissing “Mack”’s neck. Andrew was about to speak when he noticed something cold was pressed against his shirt, just above the waistband of his jeans. He was slightly startled to realise that this unsuspecting woman, only slightly taller than himself, bony under her baggy clothes, was holding him at knife-point. 

There was mettle—metal, _ha_ —in her steel-coloured eyes that he’d overlooked. She wasn’t like Renee. She wasn’t like Neil. She was unruly, unpredictable; dangerous, and Andrew was in danger. 

“Mack”’s voice was deadly-calm when she spoke, a touch of British creeping into her vowels. ‘I don’t take kindly to people who pull knives on me, Andrew.’ She adjusted her grip on his wrist to shove the two of them apart. ‘But you saved my brother’s life, so you get one warning.’ She held up one finger and put her knife back in the front pocket of her hoodie, her hands following. ‘Don’t do that again.’

Before Andrew could say anything, Neil stepped out of the court doors, registering the tension immediately. 

‘Andrew?’ Neil asked, stopping between them and eyeing Andrew worriedly. Neil’s immediate response to Andrew in trouble was always concern, never blame. It made Andrew want to hit something. 

Instead, Andrew reached for Neil’s duffle bag. He knew that, where others would see the offer as a courtesy, Neil would know it for what it was; a promise. ‘I’m not going to look for you if you go missing,’ he said, and Neil smiled, understanding Andrew’s unspoken meaning. _Come back._

The little shit lay the strap of his bag across Andrew’s palm, and stepped closer to say, ‘You’d better not. You’re the best goalie we’ve got.’ 

Andrew curled his fingers around the strap tightly, hating the way his chest clenched at the utter Neil-ness of that response. It was like standing on top of Fox Tower, looking down and feeling that tugging, rushing, falling sensation, because—even when he kept secrets—the junkie was still honest with Andrew.

Gritting his teeth, Andrew shouldered Neil’s bag and asked, ‘Phone?’ Neil patted his front pocket in reply, and Andrew grunted. ‘I hope _Mack_ kills you slowly.’ 

Without another look back, Andrew reentered the stadium. Everything in him wanted to keep Neil there, chasing Kevin around the court to his heart’s content, but they didn’t have a deal anymore. Neil would do what he wanted to do, and Andrew had to trust him to handle whatever it was. Trusting Neil was a tenuous, radical thing, but it was Miss Mary Mack who could prove to be an issue. Andrew didn’t like the idea of risking Neil with her, and she hadn’t told him anything about why she was there. It could be a family reunion, but Andrew suspected something a little more sinister. He always did. 

— 

‘What a charmer,’ Neil’s sister said wryly as they watched Andrew’s retreating form through the thick glass of the door. 

Neil turned and was momentarily winded at the sight of her. In the dim lighting she looked even more like her namesake. He almost commented on it again, but Andrew’s parting words made him ask, ‘“Mack”?’ He was puzzled over why his sister had told Andrew her childhood nickname. He wondered what else she’d told him in the time it had taken him to get from the shower to the parking lot. ‘What did I miss?’ 

Mack cocked her head and threw a black helmet at him, shrugging on an expensive-looking, heavily padded bike jacket over her worn clothes. It altered her image drastically. 

When Neil gave her a significant look and made no move to put the helmet on, she sighed. ‘We had a chat.’

‘And?’

A modicum of anger entered Mack’s tone. ‘And I didn’t think quick-draws were your crowd.’

‘He pulled a knife on you?’ From the way Mack was moving without strain, Neil guessed Andrew hadn’t hurt her. ‘What did you do to him?’

Mack quirked a brow at him. ‘You need to tell him the kind of danger he’s in.’

‘Yeah.’ Neil touched his knuckle to his forehead. ‘He knows. It’s getting him to care, that's the trouble.’ 

That made Mack snort derisively. ‘I take it back, he’s exactly your crowd.’

‘That’s—’

‘Just get on the bike.’

Neil took that to mean that the conversation was tabled for now, and shoved the helmet over his still-damp hair, getting on the bike behind Mack.

They rode for about forty minutes until she brought them to a small, unsuspecting house in the suburbs, not far from Columbia. Brown brick, blinds drawn, unkempt lawn. Parking the bike in a small garage, that reeked of gasoline and some kind of cleaning chemical, she bid Neil dismount and he stumbled off eagerly. 

Their mother had had to resort to bikes exactly once, in Austria. Neil had ridden with her but Jessika—as she’d been called at the time—had been on her own. In the darkness, with lights blurring past them, Neil could have been Stefan again, clinging to his mother as they sped down the Autobahn. 

Then he looked at his sister, her eyes bigger, her face more square, her nose rounder, and came back to himself. 

‘What is this place?’ He asked, following her through a door that led to the inside of the house. It was just as dark as the exterior with the same brown-brick walls. The ceiling was low and the flickering lights did very little to help the cave-like impression it gave.

Mack didn’t seem to mind. ‘It’s where I’ve been staying. Stuart has a few of these all over the States.’ 

The mention of their uncle reminded Neil about what Andrew had told him. He stood in place while Mack draped her padded jacket on a hook and continued on to a kitchen area. ‘About that,’ he started.

Seeing where he was going with that, Mack shook her head. ‘Your friend shouldn’t have learned that name.’

‘Maybe, _Dinah,_ you shouldn’t have taken that name.’

Now Mack scowled. ‘Don’t act like what you did was any better, _Neil.’_ She pointed at him in the way she always had when she was pissed off: arm bent, index finger at eye-level, jabbing the air in front of him while she seethed. ‘And I don’t want to hear judgement from Moriyama’s exy boy.’

Neil recoiled as though she’d slapped him. ‘I— the situation was delicate. I should—’

‘You _should_ never have gotten yourself into that situation in the first place,’ she finished firmly, her palms smacking down on the counter for emphasis. ‘I mean— Exy? What were you thinking?’ Mack stared at him searchingly

Neil bristled, he’d told himself that he’d hear Mack out, but if she wasn’t going to return the favour then there was no point in holding back. ‘What about you? Hatford? What were you thinking?’

‘This isn’t about me,’ she said, but she sounded weary. They both knew they weren’t going to get anywhere by fighting each other. 

Neil noted the way Mack’s hands were now clenched on the countertop. ‘Okay. Okay, let’s just sit down, or something,’ he said, pulling out a stool from underneath the counter.

‘Good idea,’ Mack said on an exhale, spinning around to open a cupboard for mugs. ‘Tea? I know I’ll need— well, several, if I’m being honest.’

‘I’ll have one,’ he said. ‘Hold the toothpaste.’ Neil hoped an inside joke would help to put Mack at ease and he relaxed slightly when his sister tossed an exasperated look over her shoulder at him.

‘Don’t be cute when I’m mad.’

‘Mad at me? Or mad at the world?’ 

This was another in-joke between them. When they’d been on the run and his sister would snap at him, she always apologised with something along the lines of “it’s not you I’m mad at, it’s just the fucked up world”. Neil had used to tell her that it wasn’t the world that was fucked up, it was the people in it.

This time, his sister seemed to be a little bit mad at both Neil and the world. 

Mack made the tea in silence, neither of them willing to risk speaking lest they set the other off again, and a few minutes later Mack and Neil were sitting across from each other behind their—respectively—white and black teas.

Taking a sip, Mack eyed Neil over the rim. ‘Alright. You start.’

‘From the beginning?’ Neil asked.

Mack nodded. ‘From the beginning.’

So Neil started there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wee bit of a cliffhanger but the next chapter's already half done so it shouldn't need too long :) Be sure to leave a kudos or a comment, I looooove comments so much. Love to you all in these super scary times <3


	5. Untrustworthy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all!!   
> It's been a whirlwind of a month, huh? But I'm back!! It's been a while but I'm working on updating a little more reguarly now. Enjoy!!

Neil had some practice summing up the events of the last few years after telling the FBI some of it, and the Foxes certain aspects of it, but this was his sister. She wanted everything concise and unfiltered, so Neil tried his best, starting with their mother’s death.

Mack stayed quiet throughout, thoughtful as she traced a fingertip up and down the handle of her mug. Neil told her what it was like to live those hours of pain and panic and dread; to think that he’d lost everyone he’d ever had in a matter of hours and how inconsequential his life had felt. These details weren’t exactly necessary, but he needed her to understand why he’d made the decisions that led him to Palmetto. 

Touching on his year in Millport, Neil went on to explain how the Foxes had literally made him an offer he couldn’t refuse. How Kevin hadn’t recognised him, and that had given him hope that he could avoid getting caught. How the dream was too good to turn down. How, at that point in time, he had cared more about playing than he did about living.

Mack tapped her lip as she considered him. ‘I wondered if that’s what it was. Just a “Fuck it. I’m gonna die anyway so I might as well” thing.’

Neil shook his head. ‘It wasn’t a death wish.’

Mack went on as though Neil had never spoken. ‘There are easier ways to kill yourself, you know.’

‘Mack.’

Raising her hands in an exaggerated shrug, Mack said, ‘That’s what I’m hearing,’ and Neil felt his anger hit boiling point.

‘Then why did you call Stuart? When Mom never wanted us to—’

‘I didn’t care what Mum wanted when she was alive,’ Mack said coldly. ‘I wasn’t going to give a shit when she’s just a fading memory and I didn’t have you to look out for.’

Neil frowned. He knew his sister had always been far more detached from their mother than him, but this felt different. ‘Why don’t you care? She was our mother. I watched her die slowly and horribly after she used her last words to—’

‘Because she left me behind!’ Mack blurted, cutting Neil off and leaving him frozen and staring at her. Regret was plain on Mack’s face. ‘I didn’t mean that. I—’ Mack’s words ran out.

‘You meant it,’ Neil disagreed. ‘Though, I don’t know what you’re trying to say. Earlier, you made it sound like lying to me was your idea.’ But Neil recalled the bitter look on Mack’s face when he told her that their mother had told him— _ “She’s dead,” _ —and wondered. 

Mack couldn’t meet his eye. ‘I felt dead,’ she said quietly, and a long silence followed. She cleared her throat and closed her eyes before continuing. ‘Mum was pretty much dead by the time I got in there. Wesnin— Da—’ She huffed.  _ ‘He  _ was kicking the shit out of her. There was blood everywhere. DiMaccio grabbed me and I couldn’t fight him. I watched the whole thing.  _ He  _ was thrilled to see me, of course. He asked me about you and knocked me down when I didn’t answer.’ Mack’s breaths were hitching, but Neil watched her pull her composure together. He dreaded telling her about his run-in with their father last month, he knew that he would probably look a little something like this; holding it together but barely.

‘Lola—’ Mack seemed to choke on the name and when she opened her eyes they were haunted. ‘—It doesn’t matter. I told Mum to go, she went, they put me in the trunk of a car, I got out.’ Neil wondered if she’d gotten out of the car while it was moving and, with a jolt, identified the scarring on Mack’s cheek and chin as road rash. Neil brushed the backs of his knuckles over the scars carefully. Mack gave him a sad smile, nodding confirmation at his unasked question and Neil dropped his hand, clenching it into a fist. ‘The rest isn’t important.’

Neil doubted it, but knew not to push her limits. ‘She would have come back for you, if she’d survived,’ Neil stated. This wasn’t a reassurance, it was only the truth.

The look Mack gave him was pitying. ‘It’s more than that, I think,’ she said quietly. ‘I’m mad at her for having us in the first place, for marrying who she did, for taking us and—’

‘For making the choices she did?’ Neil asked a little wryly, earning himself an annoyed grimace. 

‘You’re not funny. And you’re not off the hook either, I’m still mad,’ Mack said. ‘Not all of this is projection. So, go on.’ Mack picked up her mug and stood, rounding the counter to make herself another cup of tea. ‘You were up to the bit where you decided to commit suicide by Exy.’

Gritting his teeth, Neil wondered how he’d ever forgotten how enraging his sister could be. 

Continuing with his story, he observed the way Mack slowly came around. How her eyes softened when he talked about how alive he felt on the court, how her shoulders relaxed when he briefly mentioned the Foxes and all they’d done for him, how she even smiled a little when he told her that he’d been made vice-captain of the team. Mack had never shared their mother’s aversion to exy—or many of her opinions at all, now that Neil thought about it—and, on nights when it was just the two of them in the motel room, Mack would sometimes put a match on for them to watch. 

Mack knew how much the game meant to him, and Neil thought she was starting to guess at how much the Foxes meant to him too, but when Neil told her about Evermore, all hints of a smile vanished from her face.

‘Andrew promised to protect me, I had to return the favour. You get that, right?’ Neil asked.

Mack stopped chewing her lip long enough to tell him no, she didn’t get it at all. ‘You wouldn’t have done that for me,’ she said, and Neil shook his head. On the run, they had been taught to survive, to live half-lives made up of false identities and lies. Neil had watched his sister switch personalities, accents, demeanours, all within the space of a few blinks. Sometimes Neil had looked at his sister and wondered how well they really knew each other. All they knew was how to survive, and if that meant leaving the other behind, then they had no other choice. 

But it had never been that way with Andrew, who was so fiercely devoted to those he protected. Andrew, who would go back for any member of his family, and trust Renee to go back for anyone else. Neil wanted to be like that. A protector instead of someone to be protected. His very presence in this dank house was evidence that Andrew was beginning to trust him; evidence that Neil was on the way to becoming someone who could be trusted. He hadn’t been that person before.

‘No, I wouldn’t have, but I’m different now.’ 

There was emptiness in Mack’s voice when she said, ‘I can see that.’ They both mulled this over in silence for a moment before Mack spoke again. ‘I’m different too.’ 

Neil looked up. ‘I can see that,’ he echoed, and it was true. Mack was more solid now, less of a waif who could be easily silenced by a sharp word from their mother. There was no trace of terror in her eyes, only calm resolve. 

She spoke calmly now when she said, ‘I didn’t go back for you.’

Neil frowned, confused. ‘You wouldn’t have been able to find me. I didn’t leave anything behind.’

‘Not then.’ Mack shook her head. ‘I meant in Baltimore.’

Now Neil was very confused. ‘What do you mean?’

Mack put her mug down and laced her fingers together. ‘I was there.’

Those three words brought everything back in flashes as Neil scanned his memories of that terrible night for any glimpse of his sister in their father’s basement. He remembered the agonising pain, his father’s angry hands squeezing his face until the burns on his cheeks cracked, his father’s taunts.  _ “We are going to start by slicing the tendons in your legs.” _ He remembered the cleaver whistling through the air where he’d just been standing, narrowly missing him and ending his life. He remembered begging helplessly as his father asked DiMaccio to fetch the blowtorch. _ “You’re not going to run this time, Nathaniel.” _

‘Neil!’

Hands were on his face, but they were small and gentle. Neil opened his eyes and was met with metallic grey, not icy blue. Neil realised his breathing was ragged, probably what had caused his sister to call his name out in panic. Neil slumped against her and she hugged his head awkwardly.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she said into his hair. ‘I was meant to protect you.’

Neil gripped the edge of the counter until his balance could come back to him. He knew it would in a minute or two. He’d been having these kinds of flashbacks in fits and starts ever since the Foxes had won the finals. Sleeping was difficult, but having Andrew nearby helped. Neil wanted Andrew now, but knew that was a dangerous way of thinking. He still remembered Andrew’s words on the rooftop of Fox Tower, right before he’d kissed Neil for the first time.  _ “I’m not your answer, and you sure as fuck aren’t mine.”  _ Andrew wasn’t Neil’s answer, and it was unfair of Neil to rely on him. The same way it had been unfair of Neil’s mother to rely on Mack to protect Neil when she couldn’t even do that herself. 

‘You didn’t choose that,’ Neil croaked when his coherency came back to him. ‘You never chose to protect me, you never even chose to run with us. None of what happened was fair to you, you just got caught up in it.’

Mack let him go and her mouth was twisted grimly as she regarded him. ‘You were always in more trouble,’ she said slowly. ‘When I couldn’t be touched because “No one bought damaged brides.” then you would take my punishments.’

Neil stared at the floor and nodded. ‘I know.’

Mack’s breaths hitched as she sat back on her stool. ‘I never did.’ Her eyes were shining when Neil looked at her in surprise. ‘It was how Mum got me to go along with what she said, in the beginning. Whenever I threatened to go off on my own, she’d say “Look at your brother. How many of his scars do you think are because of you?” and I’d have to stay. I was her insurance policy, so that if something ever happened to her, I could go on protecting you.’ Mack’s lip wobbled. ‘And I couldn’t even do that, and I’m so sorry.’

For a distressing moment, Neil thought his sister was about to cry, but she pulled herself together before it went that far. He absently wondered how long she’d known about their father’s deal with the Moriyamas, then decided it didn’t matter. If she’d known, she hadn’t told him, and he was grateful for that. Neil was pretty sure he would have run the day Wymack showed up with Andrew and Kevin in Millport if he’d known the extent of the danger he was in. He never would have become a Fox.

‘Hey.’ Neil chose his words carefully to try and avoid upsetting Mack further. ‘I won’t say I didn’t need protecting, but I want you to know that I’m really—’ Neil racked his brain for the right word and knew that every single Fox would complain if they heard what he said next. ‘—fine.’

Mack looked at him doubtfully. ‘Bold statement considering the freak out I just witnessed,’ she said, not unkindly.

‘I’m serious,’ Neil said. ‘I’m the starting striker for the PSU Foxes, vice-captain too. A week ago, we won the championships with the smallest team in Class I exy.’ Mack sighed and propped her chin in her palm while he spoke. ‘I’ve got friends and a shot at a future and a  _ life.  _ I don’t think I ever would have ended up with all of this unless things happened the way they did.’

‘I suppose it wouldn’t have,’ Mack said, thoughtfully before surprising Neil once again by adding, ‘I watched that game live, you know. Oh, don’t give me that look. Once we figured out what you’d been doing for the past year I couldn’t help myself.’ 

Neil frowned. ‘You mean you were there?’

‘Oh, no.’ Mack shook her head. ‘I was here, actually. I nearly threw my laptop across the room when you won. I didn’t think you’d pull it off.’

‘Thanks for the vote of confidence,’ Neil said dryly.

Swatting his arm, Mack smiled, then faltered. Neil guessed she was thinking about what happened at the end of that game; Riko lining up a kill-shot and Andrew blocking it at the last possible second. ‘So you’ve been in London all this time?’ Neil asked but was silenced by a frantic wave of Mack’s hand.

Neil’s spine straightened and his legs tensed to run as he heard what had his sister so spooked: the clicking of a doorknob turning, coming from down the hall.

Mack burst into action, slipping a knife free of her hoodie pouch and hauling Neil out of the stool by the scruff of his sweater. Adrenaline coursed through his veins and sharpened his senses as Mack dragged him over to a small laundry room with a door to the yard. She cracked it open and peered out. Neil’s breath burned in his lungs. Once Mack deemed the coast clear, she shoved Neil outside and signalled for him to go around the side of the house, herself disappearing back into the shadows once more. Neil wanted to call out for her but wasn’t stupid enough to give away their location. Swallowing his urge to go back in after her, Neil ran, smoothly and swiftly, around the back of the house.

Thoughts raced through his mind. Had Ichirou put a man on him? Had they seen him ride off with Mack and followed? Was someone from their father’s circle following her before she came to get Neil? Neil cursed his own idiocy. He hadn’t even begun to question Mack about where she’d been, what she’d done, if there was any trouble she was in. Stumbling over a dip in the ground, Neil regained his balance, flying towards the garage where they’d come in, only to be sent to the floor by a strong arm to the chest. 

Neil’s back hit the dirt with a thump and he groaned involuntarily, raising his arms to block any incoming blows. 

Instead, a familiar voice asked, ‘Neil?’

Neil lowered his arms.  _ ‘Renee?’ _

Extending an hand down to him, Renee helped Neil to his feet. ‘Sorry about that. Are you okay?’ she asked.

‘Am I okay?’ Neil grunted, slightly winded. ‘What are you doing here?’

Renee sounded contrite and, though Neil couldn’t see her in the dark, he knew her face would be the picture of Christian concern. ‘Andrew brought me. He went in through the window.’

‘Andrew went in through the window,’ Neil echoed dumbly. A beat later he was bolting back around the house the way he’d come. Mack thought Andrew was an intruder. Mack had a knife and she knew how to use it. Andrew had no idea what he was walking into. Andrew. God, Andrew. 

Bursting in through the back door, absently registering Renee hot on his heels, Neil slid to a stop on the slick floor. For a horrified moment, Neil imagined that he’d slipped on blood, but when he looked down he noted the broken mug under the stool and exhaled in relief. 

‘Andrew?’ Neil called, picking his way over the spilled tea. In the dim lighting, he couldn’t make out the silhouettes in the hallway, but he heard their heavy breathing. ‘Mack, let him go. It’s okay.’

Neil heard his sister huff and then Andrew was sent into a shaft of dim light, coughing and clutching his throat. Rushing to him, but not crowding him, Neil crouched a foot or so away.

‘Andrew?’ Neil shifted to hold a hand out to him and was surprised when Andrew gripped it, only to yank Neil off-balance so he sprawled on the ground in front of him.

‘Keeping track of a weevil would be easier,’ Andrew growled and Neil sighed, rolling onto his back and closing his eyes in relief. Mack groaned as she pushed herself to her feet but Neil knew she’d be alright. They both would. It was just a wonder how the hell Andrew and Renee had managed to find him.

— 

‘What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?’ Neil’s sister said, presumably to Andrew. ‘Besides not learning from past mistakes.’

Andrew huffed, it was almost funny because the way he saw it, he  _ was  _ learning from past mistakes. The whole situation had struck him as a touch too familiar: Neil disappearing with one of his family members, Andrew not knowing where he was, hours and hours going by without word of whether or not the idiot was still breathing. It had all amounted to a malcontented Andrew and was disrupting his sparring match with Renee.

She had noticed, of course. ‘You seem tense,’ she said wryly after ducking what would have been a devastating cross-hit, had it landed. When Renee asked if there was something else they could do to “ease Andrew’s mind”, he had decided that there was, and Neil was definitely not going to like it. 

Near-perfect recall was only good for so many things, and Andrew remembered his own voice reading out the information on “Mack”’s bike registration under his breath with perfect clarity. This information fortuitously included an address, which he was only so willing to pay a visit to. 

Renee had always been good at going along with whatever Andrew wanted to do without asking questions. It was one of Andrew’s favourite things about her. What their relationship lacked in trust, it made up for in mutual curiosity, so he knew Renee would watch his back if he asked her to. 

After shooting a text off to the rest of his family to “stay the fuck inside”, Andrew and Renee got in the Masarati and embarked for Camden, South Carolina. The map on Renee’s phone led them to an empty lot.

Glancing at Andrew’s narrow look, Renee asked, ‘Not what you were expecting?’

Andrew had nothing to say to that because he didn’t know what he’d been expecting. He didn’t feel disappointment, or confusion even, only an unsettling surge of  _ something  _ beneath his sternum. It made him tap his index finger against the steering wheel in agitation. Andrew wasn’t used to losing things. 

He should have guessed the address would be a dummy lead, but he also knew that if  _ he  _ had a fake address, he’d want to be near to it, just in case. 

Turning the car off, Andrew dipped out and slammed the door behind him, Renee only a few seconds behind him. He paced up the street, analysing the rest of the houses. All of them were boring and conventional-looking. Just houses. But only one of them didn’t have a Pullman’s Security Alarm with a fancy blue light out front. 

Andrew circled around the side of the house. It was basic, not unlike some of the houses he’d been moved in and out of as a kid, which had sported similarly lacking estates. He knew a neglected, unlived-in house when he saw one, and someone hadn’t been home in a long time. 

Although Andrew wasn’t certain, he was seventy-percent confident that this was the house, and anything over half was worth taking a chance on. 

The windows around the corner were at ground level and opened into a garage, judging by the way the driveway sloped under the house. They were also blacked-out. Seventy-five percent.

Ignoring Renee’s noise of complaint, Andrew crouched and slipped a knife out from his armband, jimmying the latch until the window opened when he shoved it aside. Andrew spotted the bike Neil had climbed aboard when he left and Renee saw it too when she knelt beside him a moment later. 

Satisfied with his instincts, Andrew met Renee’s eye and wordlessly dropped through the opening at her resigned: ‘I’ll wait out here.’ 

Inside was silent. No whispers, no footsteps, but—most importantly—no screams. Andrew took that as a good sign, but kept his knife firmly in his hand, ready to use at any moment. 

Pushing a door open, Andrew edged his way down a dark corridor, pausing briefly to peek into various rooms. Most of them were dusty and tickled his nose, so he kept straight, towards where lights flickered ahead. 

Andrew only had time to register that he was in a kitchen area: dimly lit, two mugs on an island—before his attention was snared by an angry voice. ‘The  _ fuck?’ _

Once more meeting the gaze of Mary Wesninski, Andrew scowled. ‘Where’s Neil?’

‘What are you doing here? How did you—’

Out of patience, Andrew threw her into the island, careful to keep distance between them this time. Her elbow knocked the mugs and liquid splashed over the linoleum. She looked at the spillage, then at Andrew, stunned. ‘I said,’ he enunciated slowly, ‘Where is Neil?’ 

She took a hesitant step forward, hands raised. ‘I don’t want to fight you, Andrew.’

‘Then tell me why you’re here. What do you want with him?’

‘You answer me first. How did you find this place?’

Before Andrew could snarl something back, she leapt forwards, grasping his wrist and twisting his arm behind him until he dropped the knife with a grunt. She was quick, but Andrew was stronger. He backed them up until she would be stuck between the wall and him, but she ducked out of the way just in time. Andrew knocked his head on something sharp and looked up to scowl at a row of coat-hooks. 

‘I told you, I don’t want to—’ 

Andrew charged her again, shutting her up effectively, but she darted around him, into the dark corridor. She snatched his hands before he could reach for another knife and locked both his arms behind his head, hooking hers around his throat. She was surprisingly strong. Andrew groaned as black dots swam in his vision. His knees went out from beneath him.

‘Andrew?’ Came Neil’s voice, cutting through the fug of his de-oxygenated brain. ‘Mack, let him go. It’s okay.’

Nothing about this was okay in Andrew’s opinion. Not the way he couldn’t breathe, not in the way he could feel this strange woman pressed up against his back, not in the disquieting concern he could hear in Neil’s voice.

Andrew had never been so relieved to be thrown to the floor. 

Gasping a few breaths, Andrew put his own hand where  _ hers  _ had been moments ago and tried to erase the feeling of her arm against his windpipe. Neil’s sneakers came into view, then his hand. ‘Andrew?’

Annoyed at Neil’s distance, Andrew pulled him forwards, perhaps with a little too much vigor, but Andrew wasn’t fragile, and it was annoying to be treated as though he were. ‘Keeping track of a weevil would be easier,’ Andrew said by way of explaining why he was there.  _ I’m here to bring you home, not to attack her. _

Neil rolled onto his back and Andrew looked down at his relaxed features. There weren’t any signs of recent injury on his face, nor on the rest of him as Andrew’s gaze travelled down. Neil was okay. Neil was “fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand there we have it :) The hell is Andrew doing?? You'll find out!!  
> I kept putting off this chapter because I just wasn't happy with it, but I'm more satisfied with the next one, so I'm just gonna launch this out there—we all need something to keep our spirits up lately. Thank you to the commenters who checked in, you guys rule.  
> I hope you enjoy more of Mack/Dinah and that you're doing well.  
> Much love <3


	6. Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so basic recap?? Last chapter featured Neil going back to Mack's safe house with her and catching her up to speed on (almost) everything he's been through since their separation. Before Mack could tell Neil anything, Andrew and Renee broke in and Mack took Andrew down. Now everyone's staring at each other like that one scene in the Rocky Horror Picture Show wondering what the HECK is going on. 
> 
> Enjoy!!

Neil opened his eyes to meet Andrew’s burning ones, alight with anger. The floor was cold underneath him and his shoulderblades poked uncomfortably into the concrete, but Andrew was okay. Angry, but okay. Renee cleared her throat and all three heads turned to her. Although confusion lined her forehead, she remained composed in a way that made Neil wonder how much Andrew had told her; how much Renee had managed to deduce on her own. 

‘I think we would all appreciate it if you didn’t resort to violence again,’ Renee said tonelessly, her phlegmatic smile cocked and aimed directly at Mack. 

Mack’s brow quirked as she eyed Renee’s busted knuckles meaningfully. ‘I guess I’ll try to rise above my baser urges.’

Neil felt tired in his bones. Even though he knew why his sister felt the need to make an enemy of everyone, he wished she didn't have her sights set on Renee. Or Andrew, for that matter, though the animosity between those two seemed inevitable. 

Turning his attention to Andrew, Neil asked, ‘What are you doing here?’ 

‘We grew worried,’ Renee pitched in with a gentle smile. Over him, Andrew scoffed, but didn’t say anything to deny it. Rising to his feet, Neil offered Andrew a hand which was batted aside as Andrew stood unaided, swaying then stumbling into Neil’s side. 

‘What’s wrong?’ Neil asked, putting his arms out and supporting Andrew with just his chest.

Closing his eyes, Andrew grimaced and touched one hand to the back of his head. Neil caught a flash of red in Andrew’s blond hair.

‘Damn it, Mack,’ Neil hissed.

Though he couldn’t see her, Neil heard the eyeroll in Mack’s voice when she mumbled something about a first-aid kit and walked around them. Neil led Andrew to the stool he’d been sitting in earlier, careful not to touch him more than necessary, and sat him down just as the lights went out.

‘Someone needs to pay the electric bill,’ Andrew commented after hearing Mack’s muffled curse. 

‘There’s a torch in the cutlery drawer,’ Mack called and Neil entrusted Andrew to Renee’s care while he retrieved it. On closer inspection under the flashlight’s beam, Andrew’s injury wasn’t as bad as he’d thought, but he felt unbalanced nonetheless. Mack could have seriously hurt Andrew, and Neil didn't like the complicated position that might have put him in.

Renee crouched into Andrew’s eye-level. ‘Are you concussed?’ she asked.

Andrew made a grunting noise that Neil translated to mean: “No.” 

Neil sighed and faced Renee in the dark. ‘Why’d you come?’ he asked, and winced at his tone. He hadn’t meant to be short with her.

The smile she gave him was understanding but edged with tension as Mack rejoined them. ‘Backup, I presume.’

Mack dropped a small bag onto the counter with a clatter and Neil shone the flashlight over it so she could see what she was doing.

‘Um,’ Renee said, standing straight, ‘maybe I should...’

Shrugging, Mack handed Renee a roll of bandages and a small bottle of betadine. Renee held a hand out for the flashlight, popped it between her teeth when Neil placed it in her palm, and got to work. Neil’s eyes flickered to Mack. ‘How much German do you remember?’

‘We haven’t spoken German in four years,’ Mack replied, confused.

Switching to the language easily, Neil asked Andrew, ‘ _ Did  _ you bring Renee for backup?’

Andrew sounded mocking. ‘That’s what you want to start with? Not “why are you here?”?’’

Mack muttered something to herself and walked away but Neil ignored her.

‘It’s the question I have the least theories about,’ Neil admitted.

‘Yes.’ Andrew waited a beat before asking, ‘What are your theories?’

Guilt made for a heavy weight in Neil’s gut. ‘I didn’t tell you about my sister, and I know I should have. Now you followed me because you—’ Neil hesitated. ‘—don’t trust me to come back. Maybe you don’t even trust me at all, and I’d deserve that.’

Andrew was silent for a long moment while he mulled this over. Neil braced himself for some cutting comment dismissing trust, and Neil, and claiming  _ there’s no “this.” _ He’d hurt Andrew and when Andrew was hurt it was better that he lash out rather than keeping it inside. 

‘It’s not—’ Andrew broke off, wincing at whatever Renee was doing and she made an apologetic sound around the flashlight. ‘It’s her I don’t trust.’

The admission threw Neil for a loop. It was the closest Andrew had ever come to telling Neil—outright—that he trusted him. Neil’s thoughts scattered and it took some effort to remember what they’d been talking about. 

‘You know I was the same as her when I first came to Palmetto,’ Neil said.

Andrew scoffed derisively. ‘You were a runaway. She is something far more dangerous and you’re an idiot if you can’t see that.’

‘She doesn’t need protecting,’ Neil remarked, pointedly passing over the second part of Andrew’s statement. ‘She doesn’t need anything from us, it’s a good thing.’

Questioning fingers tugged on the hem of Neil’s sweater and Neil stepped forwards in answer. Andrew’s grip tightened and his voice was low when he spoke. ‘If you had come to me like that, I would have killed you long before I even considered taking you to Eden’s.’

‘For the record, I’m glad you didn’t,’ Neil said. ‘A move like that would have really fucked up your career.’

‘They never would have found your body.’

Neil couldn’t quite suppress a grin and was thankful for the dark. ‘Well, you didn’t kill me, and you’re not going to kill Mack either. I think she’s harmless—to us, at least.’

‘You think,’ Andrew sneered in a way that said he’d heard the grin in Neil’s voice. ‘And what will you give me if you’re wrong?’

The question startled Neil. ‘What do you want?’

Instead of getting an answer, they were both distracted by the lights bursting to life above them. Andrew let go of Neil and Neil shuffled back when Andrew took to glaring at the puddle of tea on the floor; a clear dismissal. Mack reentered and occupied a spot by the wall, blank-faced but clearly unhappy.

‘So,’ Mack began, staring Andrew down. ‘I would assume you got my location the same way you got my name—’ She crossed her arms. ‘—only my bike is not registered to this house.’

‘An empty lot is hardly an ingenious red herring. You couldn’t have holed yourself up very far from it.’

Mack’s eyes narrowed. ‘You’re saying you just broke into the next house you saw?’

When Andrew twitched, Renee made another noise of apology. Andrew sounded far less apologetic when he asked Neil, ‘Should I have used smaller words?’ and seemed to relish the furious sound Mack made. 

‘All done,’ Renee announced, taking the flashlight out of her mouth and cutting the tension before Neil had to. He shot her a grateful half-smile. Taking sides between Andrew and his sister was something he hoped to avoid. ‘And I can assure you, it was far from random…’ Renee trailed off, giving Andrew a gauze pack to hold against his head then, bizarrely, adding, ‘But we should have knocked.’

The statement startled a laugh out of Mack. Neil shot her a look as she laughed again, harsh barks of mordant amusement escaping her before she sighed and ran a hand down her face. 

‘I’m guessing you’re Renee,’ Mack said. ‘I’ve heard only interesting things.’

Renee’s lips quirked in a too-sweet smile. ‘And I’ve heard nothing about you, which is interesting in turn.’ 

If Mack felt cornered, her instinctive reaction would result in damage that Neil was certain he wanted to avoid. It had taken him a while to warm to Renee but he had eventually and didn’t want her getting hurt. Neil moved his sister’s way, placing himself directly between his family of blood and his family of choice.

Both Andrew and Renee narrowed their eyes at Neil’s protective step. He shook his head. ‘Believe me, it’s not her I’m worried about.’ Renee only looked more intrigued at Neil’s explanation. 

‘Oh relax,' Mack said from behind him. 'I’m pissed off, not ruthless.’ 

Neil glanced back at her. ‘The dent you put in Andrew’s head would say otherwise.’

‘Please,’ Mack scoffed, ‘why would I waste all my effort and attack the man I’ve been protecting?’

‘What do you mean? I—’ Neil broke off, realisation hitting him like a bag of bricks. ‘Andrew?’

Renee piped up, ‘What about Andrew?’

Neil cringed. Renee couldn't get involved in whatever Mack was doing. None of the Foxes would, if Neil could help it. 

‘Mack,’ Neil said when his sister remained silent. 

Sighing and running a hand through her hair, Mack said, ‘You didn’t think it odd when no one expressed interest in recruiting the man who took out a Moriyama and lived?’

Neil didn’t say anything, but he had found the silence suspicious. Andrew promised that he would tell Neil the second something seemed off and Neil figured someone would come forth with a proposition eventually, but now he was worried. 

‘What did you do?’

They were interrupted by Renee’s phone ringing. ‘It’s Dan,’ she said, raising her eyebrows at Neil. 

Neil nodded. ‘Tell her we’ll be back, but not anything else.’

Though he knew Renee would hardly approve of keeping things from Dan, she must have suspected that Neil was trying to keep her from knowing too much as well, because she obligingly went through the laundry room to answer Dan’s call outside.

After Baltimore, Neil had sworn never to keep anything from the Foxes again. He couldn’t seem to decide whether to be concerned for his sister or angry that she was forcing him to go back on his word. 

Feeling Andrew’s reassuring presence come to stand at his back, Neil turned to meet Mack’s guilt-ridden expression. ‘You’ve been protecting Andrew?’

‘Through Stuart’s connections,’ Mack clarified. ‘I’m a Hatford in name now, one of the prerogatives is calling dibs on people.’ Neil grimaced at her phrasing and she rolled her eyes. ‘I’m not actually  _ recruiting  _ him, calm down. I just let the word spread that I was going to so no one else would make a move.’

Neil felt his eyes widen in horror. Mack had more power than he’d thought. ‘Just how much shit have you gotten yourself into?’

‘I haven't—' Mack gestured at Andrew. 'Can he leave?’ 

‘No. What have you done?’

Andrew surprised them both by saying, ‘You said I had to forget your name, so no one knows you exist. That’s why you have to use your uncle’s connections.’

Annoyed, but unable to help herself, Mack corrected him, ‘ _ Few _ people know I exist. You can count them on two hands...’ She fixed Andrew with a look and waved in Renee’s direction. ‘...and now two toes. I’d prefer it to stay that way.

‘Why?’ Andrew asked.

‘Because remaining mostly anonymous will make it easier for me to—’ Mack stopped herself and glanced at Neil, her lip caught between her teeth. He knew that look, and it didn’t mean anything good.

‘Mack.’ Neil squared his shoulders and took a deep breath. ‘What did you  _ do?’  _

Mack sighed. ‘I never told you what I was doing in South Carolina.’

‘I assumed you came to see me,’ Neil said.

‘Yeah, I did.’ Mack smiled slightly before her face went serious again. ‘But that wasn’t the only reason. Do you remember that—’ Mack’s eyes flicked to Andrew and back to Neil. ‘— _ thing  _ you asked Stuart about?’

Proust. Of course Neil remembered, but it took him a moment to piece it all together. The changes in Mack’s disposition, her reasons for wanting to stay anonymous, her hesitancy to tell Neil anything she’d lived through since their separation. 

‘You are fucking kidding me,’ Neil spat, careening right back into Andrew, who caught him with an arm around his chest.

Mack put her hands up. ‘Neil, you have to hear me out.’

Straightening out of Andrew’s hold, Neil glowered at his sister. ‘Why should I?’

‘Because I just sat there and heard you out for hours?’ 

_ ‘I _ didn’t decide to become a killer,’ Neil muttered darkly, and felt Andrew’s hand fist in the back of his sweater, as though preparing to yank Neil back. Neil put an arm out but Andrew didn’t let go.

Mack looked at him beseechingly. ‘Please, just listen. I promise it’s not as bad as whatever you’re thinking.’

Gritting his teeth against the urge to snap something hurtful, Neil nodded for her to go ahead.

‘Okay,’ Mack said, relieved. ‘First of all, I didn’t “decide” to become a killer. You know what I’d done before I even called Stuart—’

‘That was different—’

‘Let me finish.’ The hard edge to her words was the only thing that kept Neil from interjecting again. ‘Stuart doesn’t want me to be a hitter—doesn’t want me involved much at all, as a matter of fact.’ She motioned at her face. ‘Too much resemblance, I guess. He can’t look at me without seeing Mum.’ Neil nodded. He knew the feeling. ‘So, no. I don’t work for anyone but myself, so long as I don’t have an identity. Not many people know I exist thanks to the mafia being a boy’s club, and I can use that to my advantage, like I did last week when I removed that low-life from the equation. I hardly think he will be missed.’

While Neil had to agree that no one who knew the real Proust would be missing him, he was still perplexed. ‘Why did you take him out then?’

Mack met Andrew’s gaze over Neil’s shoulder. ‘I owed you, and I don’t like owing people.’

Glancing back at Andrew’s narrowed eyes, Neil felt himself growing tense. 

‘Explain,’ Andrew demanded. ‘I am growing tired of all these secrets.’

Neil grimaced. ‘It’s not a secret. Before the Ravens game, Uncle Stuart talked about the fall of Kengo’s empire; he mentioned a few loose ends that had to be tied. I asked him about Proust, that’s it.’

_ ‘Fuck,’  _ Mack whispered, aghast. ‘How much have you told him?’

More worried about Andrew than Mack, Neil focused on his face, on the tense set of his jaw and the vacancy in his eyes. ‘Andrew?’ he asked, hesitantly.

‘Present,’ Andrew snapped and shoved Neil out of the way so he could address Mack square-on. ‘So you killed him?’ Andrew scowled at Mack’s nod. ‘Why? What could you have possibly owed me?’

To Neil’s surprise, Mack said, ‘I owed you for him,’ and stuck her chin in Neil’s direction. ‘You protected my brother when I couldn’t, so when Stuart told me what Neil asked him, I figured it was a way to get even.’

Andrew bared his teeth. ‘I didn’t keep him safe for  _ you.’  _

‘It was my job before it was yours.’

‘Well you didn’t do a very good job of it.’

‘Hey—’

‘Neil?’ came a voice from across the room and Neil met Renee’s uncommonly sheepish grimace where she stood by the laundry room door. 

Neil acknowledged her with a weary nod. ‘Everything okay with Dan?’

‘She’s worried. Matt too,’ Renee replied with a shrug. ‘It’s nothing Allison can’t handle.’

Neil thought that leaving them to Allison of all people was an odd choice, but he was suddenly distracted by Mack backing away. ‘I should let you get back,’ she said when Neil looked sharply at her. ‘I’ve kept you long enough, and your friends are worried.’

Shaking his head, Neil argued, ‘I still have questions.’

‘And I have somewhere I need to be, as do you.’ Neil was baffled when Mack skirted the countertop to start packing away boxes of tea, tossing their spoons into the sink. ‘It’s been enough time, really.’ Her eyes softened minutely as she smiled at him. ‘I didn’t think I’d get even this much, but it really is time for you all to go,’ Mack said, giving Renee a wary nod of thanks when she stooped to pick up the pieces of broken mug littering the floor. Mack took a shaky breath and muttered, ‘Who knows how secure this place is anymore.’

Andrew sarcastically raised his hand and Mack shot him a glare. 

If Mack was clamming up because of Renee and Andrew, then Neil needed to get them away somehow. ‘I’ll be out in a minute,’ Neil said and watched in silence as Renee followed Andrew down the hall.

‘You aren’t really in a position to judge me, you know,’ Mack said quietly.

‘I’m not judging you, Mack.’

‘Then what?’

‘What aren’t you telling me?’

Mack’s eyes turned serious. ‘Lots of things.’

_ ‘Why?’  _ Neil asked. ‘Do you think I can’t handle it? I can handle more than you think.’

‘You always could,’ Mack whispered, uncharacteristically sad. A calm seemed to settle over her now that it was just the two of them once more and Neil watched the tough façade fall away. With their mother Mack had always been a shadow, waiting to scare off some kids who asked him too many questions or reprimand Neil for whatever he happened to do wrong that day. Now she was stronger, but he could pick out the pieces of different identities a mile away: Jessika's warped sense of humour, Courtney's cruelty, Lily's aggression. Now Mack's guard had slipped, revealing the slightly more human version underneath.

Neil sighed, exhausted by the night’s events, or maybe just plain exhausted. He hadn’t slept well all week. ‘Where do you have to be?’ he asked.

And just like that, the spell was broken. Reaching out, Mack caught his sleeve and guided him down the hall to the garage, buzzing with urgency. ‘Never you mind. I just said I’d leave by sunrise, and I’m late, thanks to you,’ she said it in a teasing tone that Neil didn’t believe for a second. 

Something else occurred to him before he could call her on it. ‘Wait— sunrise?’ Neil watched, dumbfounded, as Mack pushed a button and the garage door opened, filling the space with blue, pre-dawn light. Neil struggled to digest the fact that a whole night had passed while also feeling like several nights had. 

Mack smiled tightly at him. ‘Like I said, we’ve had enough time.’

Neil’s gut clenched at the finality in his sister’s words. ‘When do you think I’ll see you again?’ 

There was a sad look in Mack’s eye when she gave Neil’s shoulder a tentative squeeze. ‘Andrew Minyard doesn’t strike me as the kind of person who likes to be kept waiting,’ she said and, as though to emphasise her point, Andrew honked impatiently. Mack narrowed her eyes. ‘He does realise I have neighbours, right?’

‘Mack,’ Neil said, ‘whatever you have to do— just be careful.’

Using her hold on Neil’s shoulder, Mack pushed Neil towards the Maserati. ‘Please don’t worry about me, okay? And get some sleep, you look half-dead.’

Neil scoffed at the familiar rebuke but dutifully made his way to Andrew, climbing behind the wheel and shutting the door behind him. Andrew pressed the keys into Neil’s palm and Neil felt his shoulders loosen as he stuck them in the ignition, the Maserati purring to life.

— 

‘Mack, whatever you have to do—’ Neil hesitated. ‘—just be careful.’

A gloomy feeling curled in Mack’s chest to hear those words come from her brother; the careless one, the one who should really heed his own advice if he was to survive what was coming. She gave him a nudge. ‘Please don’t worry about me, okay?’ she said past the tightness in her throat. ‘And get some sleep, you look half-dead.’

Neil grumbled, clearly remembering all the times she’d said those words to him and she swallowed the urge to call him back as he walked away. She’d planned on telling him why she was there, and then he’d told her about exy, and the Foxes, and his new family, and she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She couldn’t rip his world out from under him when he’d finally found a place in it.

What Neil said was true, he could handle so much more than Mack thought him capable of, but that didn’t mean she was the same. Being unable to follow through with a plan seemed to be her new thing. First she couldn't face Wesninski in Baltimore, and now she couldn't even tell her brother—

Mack groaned in frustration and turned on her heel back into the house.  Taking her bike jacket off the hook, Mack locked up the rest of the safehouse. It wasn’t much of a safehouse if some temperamental exy goalie managed to track it down in a matter of hours, but fixing things the way she’d found them was too habitual for her to leave the place unsecure. 

Mack ducked into the bedroom and grabbed her backpack from where she’d hidden it in the closet, everything was still there. She had 6 missed texts from Helena on her burner phone and cursed herself for her own negligence. 

_ 3:56am  _ **_Ready to move?_ **

_ 5:30am  _ **_Please confirm._ **

_ 5:43am  _ **_Transfer ETA at 2:26pm, you can intercept from the drop-zone. Feds will look the other way._ **

_ 6:27am  _ **_Backing out again?_ **

_ 6:29am  _ **_I will still tell your uncle about this, regardless of whether you follow through with it._ **

_ 6:58am  _ **_D, please confirm._ **

The last message had only come in a minute ago. Dinah typed a quick reply: 

_ 7:00am  _ **_Confirmed. Leaving now._ **

Helena’s response was immediate:

_ 7:00am  _ **_Are you?_ **

Dinah groaned softly and rubbed her eyes. It was worth it to see her brother, but Helena’s faith in her was already shaken after the stint in Baltimore. Dinah had to get her head in the game if she was to prove to Helena that all the hard work she’d put into training her hadn’t been a waste of time. 

Andrew Minyard’s nice car was gone when Dinah got back outside, and she told herself that this was a good thing. 

Yanking the keys out of her pocket, Dinah climbed onto her bike, pulled the choke all the way out and started up the engine. She fastened her helmet—proud for only allowing herself a quick glance at the one her brother had worn—and let the engine warm up.

Her phone buzzed with another message from Helena:

_ 7:03am  _ **_Were you giving yourself a pep-talk in the mirror all night? You know actions speak louder than words._ **

Angrily, Dinah typed back:

_ 7:04am  _ **_Fell asleep. Untwist your knickers._ **

Pocketing the phone, Dinah punched the garage door button and urged the bike into the driveway. The growling engine reflected her mood nicely as she kicked off, riding into the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, hope you're all doing okay :) Thanks for reading another chapter, I hope you liked it!! It's finally starting to get into the plot now and I'm so excited to share it!! The next chapter's pretty short but the one after it will make up for it, I hope. 
> 
> Leave a kudos if you're liking this so far or a comment if you want!! Every single comment makes my day and I'm so appreciative for those who've commented so far, you guys rock.
> 
> Stay safe and much love to you all <3


	7. Deals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neil naps and Dinah snaps ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLOT PLOT PLOT  
> This story is getting to be so much longer than I originally planned but I'm having loads of fun with it and I hope you all are too!!  
> Enjoy and happy mother's day to all of y'all with mummy issues... the Egyptian ones, of course ;)

Arriving back at the dorms, Andrew had one priority: sleep. He’d missed a whole night of rest running after Neil’s deranged sister and he knew Neil hadn’t slept well in weeks; Andrew was the one making coffees at four in the morning, after all. 

The girls were loading up Matt’s truck with shit from their room and Renee got out the car spouting apologies. Neil followed, his movements sluggish, and Andrew locked the car behind them.

‘Sorry, I really thought you wouldn’t be awake yet. Can I still help in some way?’ Renee fretted.

Wilds waved her off. ‘Matt offered to take The Monsters’ stuff down to Columbia last night. We’re just getting an early start to fit two trips in,’ she explained. Andrew couldn’t pinpoint the moment “The Monsters” stopped sounding hateful, but the change made his blood boil.

‘Still can’t believe we woke up before nine for the _Monsters,’_ Reynolds said, and there was that familiar, old disdain Andrew was used to. She dropped a basket of linens and looked up, noticing Neil and Andrew behind Renee. ‘So, what’d they kidnap you for?’ she asked narrowly, tossing her styled hair over her shoulder and folding her arms.

Andrew didn’t wait to hear whatever placid answer Renee would give and dragged Neil through the door despite Wilds’ protests. He had not the energy nor the patience to deal with their inane antics at that moment.

A curious look was the only response he got from Neil, who seemed willing enough to follow Andrew’s lead and ignore them. The elevator doors opened, revealing Aaron and Boyd, each holding one end of the girls’ couch. 

Aaron raised his eyebrows at the two of them. ‘They live,’ he remarked.

Boyd’s face broke out in a ridiculous grin as he led the couch carefully into the hall. ‘Hey! You guys really threw us for a loop there. You alright?’ Concern coloured Boyd’s tone as he gave Neil a once over that made Andrew want to punch him. Neil didn’t need concern. He needed sleep. They both did. 

‘Yeah. Sorry,’ Neil croaked. ‘Didn’t mean to worry anyone. We’re fine.’

‘You sure?’ Aaron sneered, eyes darting from Neil to Andrew. ‘You look like hell.’

Andrew ignored his twin and made for the elevator. Neil mumbled some comment about being tired and followed, sighing when the doors closed behind him. Aaron wasn’t exactly wrong, Neil looked exhausted. His eyes were puffy and rimmed with red, which only served to make the blue of his irises more stark; his cheeks were sunken, and hair stuck up every which way after donning a bike helmet directly after showering. 

‘You’re a mess,’ Andrew commented, earning a wry smile.

‘What else is new?’ Neil replied, echoing another conversation they’d had months before, the words breathed into each other’s mouths. 

The doors opened again before Andrew could pursue that train of thought and they walked to their dorm. Neil reached for his keys but Andrew tried the doorknob and found it unlocked. Kevin and Nicky were hunched over Nicky’s phone but looked up when they entered.

‘What the fuck happe—’ ‘Andrew!’ they said at the same time; Kevin worried, Nicky relieved. 

Neil ran a hand down his face. ‘It was fine, Kevin,’ he said, ‘nobody died.’ Andrew flicked him a tired look and Neil returned it just as wearily. ‘I’ll get you some ice,’ he muttered quietly and brushed past him.

The pain in Andrew’s head had dulled during the ride back. The place where the skin had broken was bothersome, but Andrew knew from experience that it was nothing sleep and aspirin couldn’t fix.

‘Ice? What for?’ Kevin asked while Nicky came to stand by Andrew. ‘What happened? Why would you go after him?’

Infuriatingly, Nicky answered for him. ‘He was worried, Kevin. We all were. You know what happened the last time Neil disappeared.’

‘So, no one thought to give Neil a call?’

Clearing his throat, Andrew sent Neil a pointed glance over Kevin’s shoulder. Neil grimaced and put the ice pack in one hand to flick his phone open. The screen was black.

Angrily, Kevin asked, ‘What is the point of you even having the damn thing if you never charge it?’

‘Maybe if we upgraded it to something he could check exy scores on, he’d remember,’ Nicky pitched in and Andrew cringed internally. He could see it all now: Neil, awake in the dead of night, obsessing over the team’s latest stats on a smartphone. Shaking his head minutely, Andrew accepted the ice pack from Neil and ignored the way his eyebrows were raised, clearly considering the possibility.

Nicky got a good look at Neil and made a dismayed sound. ‘When did you last sleep?’

Kevin’s frown deepened. ‘You look—’

 _‘Bad._ I know,’ Neil cut him off, agitated. ‘I’m going to sleep now, and I don’t want to see anyone until tonight at Abby’s,’ he said and stormed off to the bedroom.

Beside Andrew, Nicky unsuccessfully stifled a titter behind his hand. Andrew raised a brow at him.

‘Neil gets grouchy,’ Nicky practically sang, delighted.

Andrew made an involuntary noise that sounded vaguely amused and Nicky’s whole stupid face lit up. Andrew looked at Kevin so he wouldn’t have to bear his cousin’s idiocy. It had been Nicky’s cursed idea for the whole team to have one last hurrah before splitting off for the summer. There was no way Andrew was putting up with exy _and_ the entire team on the meagre hours of sleep currently stored in his reserves. 

‘No practice today,’ Andrew said, hoping Kevin was expecting it but still feeling the need to affirm it. 

Inclining his head, Kevin looked put-out but didn’t argue. Nicky grabbed his phone and keys. ‘We’ll go help the girls so you two can sleep,’ he said. 

Now Kevin looked exceedingly put-out, Andrew observed as he walked passed him. ‘Must we?’

‘Come on, I know you’re dying to get on Allison’s good side.’

‘You’re so wrong. I pity you.’

‘And you’re so in _lurve_ — ow! Asshole.’

‘Make another joke about Reynolds and I’ll—’

Andrew heard their conversation fade from the bedroom, and closed the door softly behind him, relieved.

Neil looked up from where he already lay beneath the covers, relaxed in a way that told Andrew their relief to be away from other people was shared. 

‘Nicky says you’re grouchy.’

Rolling his eyes, Neil grumbled, ‘Well, do they _all_ have to comment on how shit I look?’

Andrew kicked off his shoes. ‘They’re in shock,’ he explained. ‘It’s their first time seeing how fucked up your face can be without any bruises in the way.’

Neil’s laugh was bitter and it made Andrew hesitate, one hand on the ladder to his loft. He turned and eyed Neil across the room. He had his pillow propped behind his back, like he needed to feel another presence beside him. Andrew knew that Neil slept better with him, and was a still sleeper, so he wouldn’t wake Andrew up. Dorm beds were smaller than the one they had shared in Blue Ridge, but letting Neil out of his sight wasn’t an option he was fond of after the night they’d had.

‘Neil,’ he said, and blue eyes met his. ‘You want me to stay. Yes or no?’

They looked at each other for a long time while Andrew waited for Neil to figure out what he was offering.

The eventual, ‘Yes,’ was resigned, grateful, and made Andrew feel somehow more solid; more present in this moment.

He climbed over Neil and settled behind him, his back to the wall. Neil rolled so they faced each other. ‘How’s your head?’ he asked.

Andrew made a noncommittal noise and closed his eyes. ‘If you could fight like that, I can think of one or two instances where that would have been useful.’

Neil didn’t laugh. ‘She must have trained with my uncle. I don’t remember her being good enough to pull what she did,’ he said.

Cracking one eye open, Andrew watched Neil pick at a loose thread on his sleeve. ‘Do you trust her?’

‘With my life? Yes,’ Neil said, looking pensieve. ‘With anything else?’ He shook his head. It was an interesting distinction, one Andrew could understand. Neil trusted his sister to keep him alive, because—in his mind—she had proved that she could. But the rest of her was too unreliable; too dangerous. Andrew could recognise that from experience. 

‘Will you see her again?’

Neil sighed. ‘I don’t think that’s up to me.’

‘Just tell her to fuck off,’ Andrew mumbled.

Neil scoffed and was quiet for a long moment. Andrew was wondering if he’d already fallen asleep when he said, ‘What if I want to see her again?’

There was a kind of longing in Neil’s voice that Andrew wished he could crush. It was the same way Aaron talked about his mother; the way Nicky talked about his parents. Feigning nonchalance, Andrew shrugged. ‘I won’t stop you, but you have shitty taste in relatives.’

Aware that they were edging on dangerous territory, Neil joked, ‘I put up with yours,’ and Andrew planted his hand over Neil’s troublesome mouth. He felt it quirk under his palm and took it back, exasperated.

‘No more talking. Sleep,’ Andrew said firmly, closing his eyes once more and—proving that miracles do happen—Neil actually listened, and slept.

— 

Dinah pulled into the terminal entry of the Washington International Thurgood Marshall Airport, where Helena had arranged to meet her. She spotted Helena waiting by the doors, wearing similar clothes to Dinah’s, probably because Helena had been the one to order them. She grinned when she caught sight of the bike. 

‘Good to see you did not lose your balls, kiska,’ Helena commented, getting on behind Dinah. 

‘Not this time.’ Dinah passed Helena the spare helmet.

Helena hummed before fastening it under her chin. ‘You’ll forgive my lack of faith. Are we wasting our time on this task?’ she asked, and her patronising tone had Dinah’s fingers curling tighter on the clutch.

She gritted her teeth. ‘I’m ready, and I’m not a _kitten,_ by the way.’

Wrapping her arms around Dinah’s middle, Helena goaded her, ‘Prove it.’

Dinah shook off the urge to snap at Helena and kicked off once again, making for the checkpoint where everything would change.

— 

Neil woke up groggily to the sound of Kevin calling his name. Andrew stiffened beside him as Kevin’s shout roused him too, his eyes trained on Neil. 

‘What?’ Neil rasped, leaning up on an elbow, then cleared his throat and tried again. He only tore his eyes away from Andrew’s when Kevin knocked on the bedroom door. Neil rolled and sat up, rubbing his eyes. 

‘Neil,’ Kevin said, and Neil knew that voice. Tight, stressed; something had happened. ‘There’s a man in an unmarked car outside. He’s waiting for you.’

Now wide awake, Neil stood up and crossed to open the door, peering up at Kevin’s frantic expression with a regretful one of his own. ‘Moriyama?’ he asked.

Kevin shrugged. ‘He asked for you specifically. I don’t know anything else.’

Neil thought of Mack. _Fuck._ Mack had said that only a few people knew of her existence. Had Stuart somehow managed to keep her from Ichirou Moriyama, only for her to expose herself when she came for Neil? Squaring his shoulders, Neil nodded and ducked to scoop his jeans from where he’d discarded them on the floor. Andrew sat up and Neil put a hand out.

Before he could speak, they all heard a British man’s voice from outside. ‘Nathaniel?’

Neil expelled a sigh of relief when he recognised the voice. ‘It’s my uncle,’ he explained to Andrew, who didn’t look any less strained where he sat on the bed.

‘Joy,’ he droned. ‘More relatives.’

Pulling up his jeans, Neil shot Andrew a withering look. ‘Get some more sleep, grouchy,’ he teased, slipping on shoes before passing Kevin and catching sight of his uncle in the open doorway to their dorm. Stuart inclined his head, gesturing down the hall, and Neil nodded, following him outside. Walking past a burly man waiting against a sleek, silver, unmarked car, Stuart led Neil around the back of the tower. 

They walked silently for a while before Stuart spoke. ‘Congratulations on the turnout of the match against the Ravens,’ he said stiffly.

Neil nodded his thanks and cleared his throat. ‘Uncle, forgive me for being direct, but—’

‘You want to know why I’m here,’ Stuart finished for him and Neil nodded again.

Stuart buried his hands deep in the pockets of his brown, tweed suit. Neil couldn’t understand how he could manage to wear something so heavy. The sun was high in the sky and beat down without mercy. Neil’s legs grew hot under his jeans.

‘I’ve come to deliver a warning, also to check on the state of things here,’ Stuart explained.

Neil frowned. ‘Isn’t that a little—’ he hesitated, ‘—beneath you?’

Stuart considered Neil briefly. ‘Given your sister’s clandestine existence, I requested to take the task myself.’ Stuart rubbed his cleanly shaven jaw and glanced at Neil again, this time not looking away. ‘She’ll be able to see you soon, by the way. It’s just safer if we wait,’ he said, confusing Neil until he realised that Stuart must not have known that Mack had already come to see him.

If Mack hadn’t told Stuart, he could only trust that it was for good reason. He decided to have faith in his sister and keep her secret to himself. ‘What sort of warning are you delivering?’

‘You remember Lola Malcolm, I presume,’ Stuart said and Neil’s fists clenched, the skin stretching taught over his knuckles and serving as an unwelcome reminder of Lola’s handiwork.

‘Browning called about her,’ Neil said, the date just occurring to him. ‘Her trial’s today.’

Stuart assessed him before continuing. ‘You may also remember Tristan Landler. He worked with Wesninski before… Well, before,’ 

The name rang a bell. Neil distinctly remembered two of the Landlers, father and son. The son had talked with him about exy before they were both scolded and Neil was sent away. Neil had been nine and the son somewhere in his teens.

‘I remember the son,’ Neil admitted.

Stuart looked surprised. ‘Dorian. Yes, I suppose that makes sense.’ Stuart led them down a path that came to an iron bench and took a seat. Cautiously, Neil sat beside him.

‘Essentially,’ Stuart began, ‘Landler has connections in the prison Lola’s being transferred to. Now, we don’t know the nature of the deal she’s struck with him, but we do know they’re making a move today. Lola’s transfer from the court in DC will take her to a checkpoint and, once Landler has her, she’ll be joining his ranks.’

Horror straightened Neil’s spine and coursed down to his legs. He stood and whirled to face his uncle. _‘No.’_

Lola was going to walk free. She might come after him again. It was personal now, and Lola was clinging to the last threads of her sanity as it was. What if the threat of war with the Moriyamas wasn’t enough to keep her at bay? 

‘We don’t think she’ll try anything,’ Stuart said in an attempt to placate Neil, while managing to do anything but.

Neil shook his head. ‘You don’t know her. Lola, she— she’s insane. She doesn’t care about dying or alliances, she wants revenge, she’ll come for—’ Neil broke off. What was it his sister had said? 

_“I said I’d leave by sunrise.”_

‘Where is Lola being transferred from?’

Stuart narrowed his eyes at the change in subject. ‘Baltimore. Why?’

_“I have somewhere I need to be.”_

Recalling the finality in his sister’s words, the steel in her eyes, her urgency in leaving, Neil began to suspect the worst. Judging by the sun, Neil guessed it was around two o’clock. If Mack really had gone to Baltimore, she’d be arriving soon. It was possible she was already there. He remembered the way she choked on Lola’s name when they’d spoken. Fear rippled through him. 

‘Uncle Stuart, I saw her last night. Dinah, I saw her.’

‘Your sister was here?’ Stuart asked lowly, ‘How long ago?’

Neil stammered, ‘I— I don’t know, she left this morning, around seven? I think she—’

‘I know what you think,’ Stuart grumbled, pulling a small phone out and standing abruptly to punch a series of numbers in. Dread clenched around Neil’s legs, preparing him to run, regardless of the fact that he’d never make it. ‘She’s going after Lola Malcolm,’ Stuart said into the receiver when the other end picked up. ‘What do you mean you _know?’_ Another pause. ‘Get her out of there. I’ll deal with you later.’

Heart pounding, Neil heard himself ask, ‘Uncle Stuart?’

Stuart began walking briskly back the way they had come, and Neil hastened to follow. ‘I’ll handle it. You just lie low and try not to expose yourself, got it?’

‘And my sister?’ Neil asked.

Stuart sighed wearily. ‘Is in danger.’

— 

Helena elected to wait at the gate, so Dinah walked on without her, gun holstered at her hip and eyes instinctively scanning the high walls of Maryland Penitentiary for threats. Unmarked cars showed her where the Feds were and Dinah recognised Agent Browning amongst the six or so that were gathered. She kept her face blank as she went to stand with them, none of them seemed surprised to see her, except for Browning.

He eyed her as she drew near. ‘And what involvement would you have in this, Hatford?’

‘Nunya,’ Dinah replied airily, returning his stare. 

Unconsciously fingering the skin over where a wedding ring had once sat, Browning sighed. ‘My eleven-year-old says that. Go home, kid, she’s already been convicted. You don’t have to—’

‘I remind a lot of people of a lot of people,’ Dinah said, interrupting his weak attempts to suay her. ‘Guess I just have one of those faces.’

Browning gave her a disapproving look. ‘Come now, what do you want to kill someone for?’

‘This isn’t just someone,’ Dinah muttered, and walked away so she wouldn’t have to talk to him anymore. She could never explain that this was Lola Malcolm. This was the woman who had given her her first lesson with knives, who taught her how to cut a man open, how to make it slow, how to make him feel it. The same woman who had burned and cut at her brother’s face and torso and arms and _everywhere_ . The woman who carved the word _Princess_ into her neck. And Dinah was supposed to be satisfied with her getting jail time? Three square meals a day and a roof over her head? It was more than what her family had gotten on the run. Dinah recalled the days of hunger when her mother was too paranoid to set foot in a store with startling clarity. Lola deserved that, but death by Dinah’s hand would have to do.

The sound of an approaching van punctuated her thoughts perfectly and Dinah put her hand on her gun, just as the sound of screeching tires sounded from behind her. Dinah spun just as the gunshots started. 

Three cars were barrelling towards them with shooters hanging out their windows. Around her, the agents were ducking behind their cars and pulling their handguns to return fire. 

Dinah hid behind a prison van as gunfire pierced the air. Death interrupted shouting voices, cutting them off in the waterlogged way of being shot somewhere vital. A body hit the opposite side of the van and Dinah felt the blast knock the van when whoever they were was sent to the ground. 

Another car pulled up and Dinah, out of options, rolled underneath the van. The car stopped right beside where Dinah had been standing moments before and she held her breath, hearing her pulse in her ears. 

The car door opened and Dinah held perfectly still as footsteps rounded the van. A groan from beside her made her heart stop and her stomach plummet. Turning her head, she recognised Browning sprawled on the ground, bloody spittle around his lips as he reached under the van for her. The footsteps stuttered. Dinah pulled her gun and flicked the safety off.

‘Sorry,’ a deep, rough voice said before firing a bullet into Browning’s brain. Dead. Dinah clasped a hand over her mouth and thought of his eleven-year-old.

Crouching down, the man checked Browning’s pulse, a redundant task. Dinah suspected he was stalling and cocked her gun. 

The man whistled quietly. ‘I wouldn’t,’ he warned her, and Dinah felt her blood freeze. His voice was strangely human when he continued, ‘Stay under there and you may get out of this alive.’ The man stood and, as he was walking away, Dinah noticed that the gunfire had ceased.

Shuffling slowly forwards on her elbows, Dinah peered around Browning’s corpse to see the entire loading zone littered with the bodies of the Feds. Dinah’s breath shook on it’s way in. They were all dead. Possibly Helena too. 

A voice she could never forget pulled her from her thoughts and she watched Lola Malcolm herself, garbed in the standard orange of the convicted, leap into the arms of one of the men. Dinah understood now. This had been a rescue mission: a rescue mission for Lola. Dinah found herself wondering how Helena hadn’t known about this, and a dark thought occurred to her that maybe she had known, and intentionally sent Dinah into a trap.

Lola laughed as the man spun her around and Dinah identified him as someone who had worked with her father. Landler, that was his name. His men had taken out half of Hitchener’s just before they raided her father’s house in Baltimore. He was the reason they’d had to team up with the Feds, and now he was the reason all these Feds were dead.

Dinah saw the man who had spoken to her, seeing him in full-view now that he was far enough away. He was taller than most of the people gathered, his skin dark, his forearms adorned with purplish scars. He spoke to Landler, who had his arm around Lola, in a low voice. All Dinah could focus on was the fact that he was in the way of her otherwise clear shot at the bitch. 

Pushing her fear down and letting cool resolve take its place, Dinah pointed the gun anyway. He had spared her life so she would shoot him somewhere non-vital. The leg, maybe. That would get him out of the way so she could take Lola out before the rest of them converged on Dinah’s hiding place under the van.

Though she had little practice shooting from such an angle, Dinah aimed the barrel right at the man’s leg, and squeezed the trigger. Nothing happened. Misfire. A fucking misfire.

Recalling what her mother had taught her, Dinah turned the gun on its side—pressing it to the asphalt—and counted down from thirty. 

_Thirty, twenty-nine, twenty-eight…_

Lola cackled at something Landler said and Dinah felt impatience swell inside her. She briefly considered reaching for the knife in her boot sheath, taking the risk of throwing it. The image of it hitting Lola squarely between the eyes was as satisfying as it was fantastical. Realistically, Dinah knew that no blade thrown by her, from this vantage point, would cover half the distance between her and her target, but she dreamed. Oh, how she dreamed.

_…sixteen, fifteen…_

Landler started leading Lola away while the rest of his people followed. _No, no, no,_ Dinah thought miserably, as she watched them all pile into their cars. The man who had spared her life looked directly at where Dinah was hiding and winked as he came closer. ‘You owe me,’ he said lowly as he passed around the car and Dinah couldn’t quite quell the urge to snarl at him.

_…three, two, one._

Either he didn’t hear the sound, or ignored it, because he didn’t acknowledge her as he got in his car and drove off. Dinah waited until all the cars had gone, then waited for her breathing to even out, then waited until Browning’s dead eyes stopped staring at her.

It wasn’t until Dinah heard running footsteps and a voice cursing in a garbled language that could only be Russian that she finally crawled out from under the van. Helena called her name, but Dinah’s attention was suddenly caught by a square of white card. A phone number was neatly printed on it along with a note that said:

ASK FOR DARREN.

Dinah pocketed it before calling out to Helena, ‘Right here.’

The frantic, guilty look on Helena’s face made Dinah regret the few moments she had doubted the woman. But that regret was trumped by the realisation that she’d missed her chance. 

Lola Malcolm had gotten away.

— 

Stuart was already waiting for them when they arrived at the safehouse in Camden; Rada as well. Helena went straight to him and they stepped outside to give Dinah a moment alone with Stuart. Or Stuart a moment alone with Dinah, as it seemed he certainly had a lot more to say. 

‘—could have been killed, do you understand that?’ Stuart was saying.

Dinah flicked some dirt out from underneath a fingernail. ‘Sorry, what was that? I zoned out when you started stating the obvious.’

With a dark look Stuart muttered something under his breath, and Dinah didn’t have to be a genius to figure out the nature of what it had been. _“Just like her mother.” “Like mother, like daughter.” “You’re your mother’s daughter.”_

Enough was enough. ‘I am not my mother,’ Dinah said evenly. ‘I am not a child either. I am the daughter of Nathan Wesninski, whether you like it or not, and I’m sick of you trying to keep me from becoming him.’

‘Dinah—’

‘No.’ Dinah felt fury and adrenaline and all the tension she pushed down under the van resurface. With an effort, she kept her voice deadly calm, her mother’s words in her ear: _“No one takes a woman seriously when she’s in hysterics.”_

‘I know that’s why you want to keep me out of all of this. I know it’s why you keep telling me I take after my mother. I know it’s why you gave me her name and deny any connection I have to my father.’ Dinah took a shaky breath and hid her trembling fists behind her back. ‘I know, because I’ve been doing the same.’

Stuart’s eyes were grave as she continued, ‘But I’m not my mother, and I’m not my father either, and I nearly died today because of _your_ cowardice.’ Dinah flinched when her uncle did. She knew she was being cruel, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. ‘You were too afraid to let me do something, to take some control over the shit that’s happened to me—to my brother, to my mother—that you didn’t prepare me for what I was walking into. So, yes, Stuart, I _understand_ that I could have been killed, but I hope you understand that if I had, that blood would be on _your_ hands.’

The air seemed to vibrate around them. Neither of them spoke. Dinah maintained her cool look, keeping her chin up as she stared her uncle down. Staggeringly, Stuart was the first to look away, turning his back to her and bracing his hands on the rim of the sink. 

‘I know you’re not your mother, Mary,’ Stuart said, startling Dinah with the use of her real name. His sigh was heavy, and his shoulders bunched under the brown fabric of his waistcoat as he pushed off the counter. ‘You want to do this? Fine. Moriyama wants the Landler’s circle decimated and your knowledge of Malcolm could prove useful.’

‘And you won’t keep me in the dark? Even if it is to protect me?’ Dinah checked.

Stuart faced her and looked a thousand years old, world-weary and worn out behind his youthful-for-forty features. ‘I won’t protect you anymore,’ he said on an exhale. ‘Clearly you don’t need me to.’

Grabbing his jacket from the hook Minyard had cracked his head on, Stuart favoured Dinah with one last blank look. ‘Let your brother know you survived and meet us at the airport. We have urgent business in London.’ 

So, Stuart was back to his cut-off, unattached self, Dinah observed. It wasn’t the worst thing so long as he held up his end of the deal. Dinah was going to take Lola down, and this time, she thought—patting the pocket with “Darren”’s number in it—she was going to be ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so, a lot happens in this one even though it takes place over the course of maybe 5-6 hours?? I don't know, the last 24 hours have been wild for these characters so the next chapter is going to be more of a time-lapse kind of thing. Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter!! Leave a kudos or comment if you did, every comment makes my day <3


	8. Renegades

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shenanigans in motel/hotel rooms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick summary of important stuff in the story so far because it has been a W H I L E:  
> Mack/Dinah is after Lola. She had a shot at her but was interrupted by the Landler gang orchestrating a shoot-out during the prison transfer. FBI agents died and Mack/Dinah was left a note by a tall, dark, mysterious stranger known only as "Darren."  
> Meanwhile, Neil and Andrew are preparing for their summer break. The Lola Situation does slightly impede on their plans and Neil's sanity.
> 
> CONTENT WARNING: this chapter does contain a non-consensual kiss. Please be careful <3

Andrew had lost Neil. 

It wasn’t like before, Andrew kept telling himself. Neil was still around, physically: helping unload Boyd’s truck, picking at the pasta Kevin made, “watching TV” with Nicky. But Andrew could see the vacancy in his stare. Behind his eyes there was no one home. 

Bee liked to talk about daymares, or “waking nightmares” and, although Andrew loathed the inane term, he knew the signs. He also knew Neil well enough to tell that the usually watchful idiot was lost in his own thoughts.

So he was gone, and—like before—Andrew was going to get him back. 

Getting Neil’s attention was effortless most of the time. In fact, keeping his focus _off_ of Andrew was normally the more difficult task. But now Neil was unreachable, distractedly swirling a sponge around the dirty pasta pot and deeming his efforts “washing up.” Andrew grew tired of watching the pathetic display from the couch and stood up abruptly, rounding the counter and resting his elbow on the edge of the sink. He kept an inch of space between their bodies while narrowly scrutinising Neil’s side profile.

Andrew knew he wasn’t good at this but irritation still stirred in his chest when Neil failed to look up. His eyes remained trained on the pot so Andrew clicked in front of his face and frowned when Neil reeled back, startled. 

‘Hm?’ he asked intelligently, eyes wide.

Andrew’s gaze caught on his hands. Beneath the suds, they were red and raw, the skin puckered around the burns on his knuckles. Warily, Andrew dipped his hand into the water. It was scalding.

‘Boiling yourself,’ Andrew remarked dryly, switching the tap on and letting it run cold, ‘that’s a new one.’

Watching Neil blink his cognizance back made Andrew think of fake, muddy brown contact lenses. Like he was watching Neil blink away the murk of his past and remember reality. Andrew grabbed Neil’s sleeve and yanked him forwards, running his hands under the cold water. Neil hissed a short breath, more surprise than anything else, and let himself be manhandled. Three-figure percentages crossed Andrew’s mind. 

‘Abby mentioned there might be nerve-damage,’ Neil muttered. 

Andrew shut him up with a glare. ‘Or you’re just being more of an idiot than usual.’

Neil attempted a smile but it was too tight to be believable. Releasing his sleeve, Andrew leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms in silent command to start talking. Neil shut the water off.

‘I was thinking about Mack,’ he admitted, and swallowed. Under other circumstances Andrew might have commented on the sheer miracle that was Neil Josten thinking about something other than exy. As it was, Andrew privately thought exy might have been preferable. ‘When I saw her she reminded me of— Well,’ Neil hesitated, glancing at Andrew before he carefully continued, ‘she reminded me of me, right before I went to Edgar Allan. Like she had nothing to lose.’ 

The reminder of what Neil had done for him was unwelcome and unnecessary, and the feelings it stirred up in Andrew made his voice angry. ‘You had plenty to lose,’ he growled. ‘The connection of your head to your shoulders, for instance.’

Shaking his head, Neil said, ‘I didn’t care.’

Putting his agitation aside, Andrew focused on the task at hand: getting Neil out of his moronic head. If Mary Wesninski wanted to get herself killed there was nothing Neil could do to stop her, not while she’d gone who-knows-where leaving nothing but a note.

_L.M. GOT AWAY. WATCH YOUR BACK._

_—M.D.W._

Andrew had looked at Neil’s face and recalled what it had looked like before “L.M.” gouged at it with a dashboard lighter. Those scars were there because of Andrew’s idleness. Put there by the woman Neil’s sister had failed to kill. Borne by Neil himself, because he was a survivor, too stubborn to take Boyd’s father’s offer of cosmetic surgery.

These thoughts halted when Neil pushed away from the counter. ‘I need to _do_ something,’ he said, one hand fisted in his hair. ‘Being here, all this free time, it’s giving me too much room to think.’

Andrew knew Bee would tell him that Neil had suffered trauma all his life and that this _thinking_ was probably good for him. “Recovery is a process, Andrew,” and all that bullshit. 

‘So stop thinking,’ Andrew said instead, already expecting the annoyed look Neil threw his way.

‘It’s not that simple. You know it isn’t.’

‘Why can’t it be?’ Andrew challenged, moving to stand in front of Neil. He gripped Neil’s chin lightly and their gazes met, burning with intensity. ‘When have you had the least amount of time to think?’

Neil rolled his eyes. ‘On the court.’

Impatience tightened Andrew’s fingers around Neil’s chin. ‘I am not Kevin. Unless you’re going to tell the truth, I don’t care about your obsession.’

‘Is this you taking a turn?’ Neil asked, referencing the truth game they hadn’t played in over a month.

‘If I say yes will you answer honestly?’ Andrew returned.

Gritting his teeth, Neil said, ‘I couldn’t think when we were running.’ His voice turned wistful. ‘There wasn’t time to consider anything other than survival.’

Andrew snidely thought Bee would have a field day with a case like Neil Josten, if the idiot would ever tell her anything of import. Yet, maybe reminding Neil of the life he no longer had to live could be of service. Neil has—as he’d once told Andrew—orders to live his life how he wants to, to play exy and graduate college and go pro and play the stupid game he was addicted to until his little junkie heart gives out. Maybe a reminder of what he chose was all he needed to come back out of his own head.

‘Then let’s do what you do best,’ Andrew said. ‘Let’s run.’

Neil jerked his chin out from Andrew’s grasp and Andrew dropped his arms to his sides. ‘You’re not funny,’ Neil said, returning to the forgotten dishes.

‘Isn’t that what you suggested just a few months ago? That we should “go someplace”?’

Neil huffed and plunged his hands back into the water. ‘I recall you saying something about that idea being a “worthless pursuit” and “a waste of energy.”’

It both annoyed and intrigued Andrew to have someone around whose memory was almost on par with his own. ‘What do we have if not energy to waste?’ he asked.

Neil watched him as Andrew rounded the counter to sit in a stool opposite him. He had a look in his eye that told Andrew he was about to get shot down.

‘You mean aside from the maniac on the loose who wants me dead and the six-foot tall baby you promised to sit?’

Sometimes Andrew really hated being right, almost as much as he hated Neil for being right. ‘She wouldn’t see it coming,’ Andrew reasoned slowly. ‘You said it yourself, her code doesn’t entail going after anyone other than the target—’

‘What if she decides to change things up?’ Neil asked, his face contorted in an attempt to look blasé. An effort that didn’t fool Andrew in the slightest. ‘What if she decides she doesn’t want a fight with the Moriyamas so she comes for you?’ At Andrew’s bland look, Neil became serious. ‘Or Aaron, or Nicky.’

‘There you go _thinking_ again,’ Andrew commented. 

Neil scrubbed at a bowl. ‘Now is the time to be keeping our heads down, not to go walkabout.’

‘Not even for a few days?’

In a low voice, Neil asked, ‘Why is this so important to you?’

Andrew stiffened. ‘It’s not.’

‘It is, or you wouldn’t be asking.’

Their gazes warred with each other, neither of them saying what the other knew they were thinking. Neil knew this was something Andrew was letting himself want, and Andrew knew Neil would eventually cave if only for that very reason. 

Nicky interrupted them with a flurry of panicked hand motions and high-pitched lamentations of “I’m so sorry, I said I’d help!” Andrew resigned himself to waiting for Neil’s response.

He got it that night when Neil came to bed. ‘Two nights,’ he mouthed without further explanation. Andrew accepted those terms with a nod, they couldn’t get too far in that timeframe. ‘And we’re not bringing Kevin.’

Amusement twitched Andrew’s lips and he flicked the lamp off to hide it. He could only imagine how quickly Kevin would turn down _that_ invitation. At least one of the idiots would be easy to convince.

— 

Uncle Stuart was surprisingly easy to convince. Dinah had been prepared for an all-out war when she brought up the number that “Darren” had left for her that day at the shoot-out. Yet Stuart kept up the detached pretence he’d been treating Dinah to ever since she snapped at him in Camden. 

She only regretted the things she’d said a little bit, but she knew they had been necessary; just as she knew the guilt gnawing at her was a luxury she couldn’t afford herself.

A quick reconnaissance of Landler’s known associates confirmed Dinah’s theory that “Darren” was an alias. 

‘That’s him,’ she said, circling the cursor around his picture on the laptop screen. 

Stuart’s eyebrows raised. ‘Dorian Landler, Tristan’s bastard son.’

Surprised, Dinah said, ‘They look nothing alike.’ 

‘Dorian’s mother was black,’ Helena pitched in from her other side, blunt as ever.

‘I gathered,’ Dinah snapped back, then caught a hold of her temper. ‘Sorry. It just doesn’t make sense. Why would Landler’s own son want to help me?’

Stuart’s thumb stroked along his stubble, frowning deeply. ‘It is quite an elaborate trap to set for a minimal threat,’ he pondered aloud. Dinah swallowed her protests. She’d missed her shot at Lola and, whether she liked it or not, that made her a bug on Landler’s windshield. A minimal threat, if he was even aware of her at all. 

An idea occurred to Dinah. ‘What does Dorian stand to gain inheritance-wise? Is he Tristan’s only heir?’

Stuart pointed a finger at her without meeting her eye. ‘Lola’s closeness to his father threatens his share of the revenue.’

‘He wants her out of the picture, but needs to keep his hands clean if he is to maintain his father’s alliances,’ Helena surmised, nudging Dinah’s shoulder. ‘That’s where you come in, kiska.’ 

Dinah exhaled heavily. It made sense. Dorian planned to use her, and yet, if it meant getting another shot at Lola, Dinah didn’t mind being used. ‘I want to hear what he has to say,’ she said.

Stuart sighed resignedly and Dinah automatically began formulating supporting arguments in her head. She needn’t have bothered. Stuart acquiesced easily enough. 

That was how she ended up in a seedy bar in Wilmington, North Carolina, gun digging into her left hip and makeup lessening the severity of her visible scars. Normally she welcomed their savage appearance, but today she had to appear as non-threatening as possible. No matter what Dorian’s motivations were, this was a trap for which Dinah served as bait.

‘Alright, Dinah, we see him,’ Stuart said into her phone. Dinah pressed it closer to her ear to hear him over the drunken karaoke going on behind her. Stuart and Helena were waiting out front in a car, keeping an eye on the bar in case anything went amiss. Rada sat at a table behind her, ready to jump in if needed.

Subtly, Dinah shifted until she could see Dorian approaching from the corner of her eye. If he had seemed tall from underneath the van, he was gigantuan now, in a white Tar Heels t-shirt and black jeans. Dinah absently wondered where he was keeping his gun. She snapped her phone shut and slipped it into her clutch.

Dorian stopped right up against her back, one arm resting on the bar so she was caged between him and the wall. Her breath caught. ‘Evening, ma’am,’ he said, mockingly polite. ‘You want to get out of here?’

Dinah gritted her teeth and didn’t give him the satisfaction of letting her discomfort show. ‘The least you could do is buy me a drink first,’ she said evenly, attempting her old American accent and cringing at the way misuse had turned it undeniably southern. 

One of his hands gripped her elbow while the other yanked the gun from the holster at her side, jamming it into the centre of her back before she had time to react. _Fuck me,_ Dinah thought dismally.

Dorian put his lips right by Dinah’s ear and, low enough to not draw attention, murmured, ‘I don’t usually buy drinks for girls who show up to a date armed.’

‘That’s probably a good rule,’ Dinah replied, proud of herself when her voice didn’t shake. 

‘Let’s go,’ Dorian ordered and nudged Dinah out of her seat, his grip on her arm firm but not tight enough to hurt. He hadn’t expected her to put up a fight, hadn’t even brought his own gun. This thought, combined with Dorian’s lack of force, bothered her more than the gun at her back. _Cocky prick,_ Dinah thought. 

Catching sight of Rada in her peripheral vision, Dinah saw him gesturing at the karaoke stage. Of course, Dorian was less likely to shoot her with all eyes on her, but when it came to karaoke Dinah considered the prospective bullet the lesser of two evils.

She scanned the bar for alternative distractions, but Dorian was marching her closer to the door and she was rapidly running out of options. A man wrapped up his tone-deaf rendition of _Flame Trees_ and stumbled off the stage. Dinah desperately groped for the microphone in his hand and Dorian let her go the second she started speaking into it.

‘Okay. Okay, fine,’ she said, her voice laced with fake giggles as she hopped up onto the stage. ‘I’m sorry everyone, my _boyfriend_ is making me do this.’ 

Dorian shot her a baleful look as he tucked the gun into the front of his pants. Dinah found herself hoping he shot his dick off. 

It only took a quick examination to see that this karaoke machine hadn’t been updated since the eighties, a stroke of luck given that Dinah hadn’t heard any American music made in the last ten years. She found a song she was familiar with and—wincing only slightly—selected it.

The opening strings played signalling the start of _Papa Don’t Preach_ and the table actually watching the karaoke/trainwreck let out a cheer. Dinah locked eyes with Dorian, grinned mockingly at the anger she found in his stare, and sang.

— 

Neil watched with vague amusement as Andrew roughly ejected the CD in the player. 

‘I’m going to murder Nicky,’ he muttered. 

Neil smirked. ‘I think that’s Kevin’s CD.’

Throwing it onto the backseat of the Maserati without looking, Andrew fiddled with the stations until he found something more to his tastes. ‘Kevin _would_ listen to fucking Madonna,’ Andrew grumbled, and Neil held back a laugh. 

Being on the road with Andrew had improved his mood vastly. Ever since Mack had slipped back into his life Neil had felt himself drifting in and out of awareness. Several times over the past week Nicky had had to repeat his name three or four times before Neil heard him, by which point Nicky would be too concerned to remember whatever he’d wanted to tell Neil in the first place. And Nicky wasn’t the only one to notice his daze. 

One week after confronting Neil about his spacey behaviour, Andrew had packed a bag, slung it over his shoulder and grabbed the car keys before signalling to Neil. Neil’s exasperation was overruled by his curiosity. It wasn’t like Andrew to Andrew humour his whims, or to be motivated about something. Neil wanted to see where this could go. 

Detroit, Michigan. Apparently.

Neither of them had decided on the destination, really. Neil asked where they were going and Andrew had asked how Neil would have answered that question two years ago. So, Neil told him to drive north.

As the miles stretched between them and everything else, talking became easier. As they passed through Tennessee, Neil found himself recounting all he could remember from his first—and last—time there. Andrew listened while he drove, asking the occasional question to keep Neil present and focussed, but Neil suspected an underlying genuine interest in his interrogation. 

Andrew asked about tactical challenges Neil faced on the run. About where they got food, where the best places to hide out were, what kinds of cars they stole—apparently “cheap” wasn’t an acceptable answer, but Neil had never paid attention to the models.

‘What’s with the inquisition? Not that I’m complaining,’ Neil asked when Andrew pulled over so they could eat. Neil had just finished explaining why drive-thru wasn’t advised while trying to keep your number-plates under the radar, and took the last bite of his burger. 

Andrew stole a fry before answering, ‘To keep your rabbit brain from _thinking_.’

Neil chewed thoughtfully. ‘Do you think it’s working?’

‘You tell me.’

Now serious, Neil met Andrew’s gaze. ‘It is. Thank you.’

Andrew predictably pushed Neil’s face away with his finger. Neil dodged too late, wiping at the grease Andrew left on his cheek. 

When it came to picking a motel, Neil knew Andrew wasn’t going to be happy with his choice. He was proven right a few hours later, by the curling of Andrew’s lip as he cast the bag onto the bed. 

Neil grimaced. ‘This was the only one that took cash.’ A year of living in newly-built dorms and the house in Columbia hadn’t made him miss staying in these kinds of places. The Queen Motel was all cork and linoleum, brown coverlets and browner bathrooms, and not a queen in sight. Andrew stared at Neil for a full minute when he voiced that final thought out loud.

‘What?’ Neil asked, defensive.

Andrew shook his head and reached for the whiskey.

Upon discovery that they would probably wake up with less bug-bites if they slept on the floor, Neil made up a makeshift mattress out of spare blankets he found in a closet. He was sitting on the corner of it, checking messages from Nicky—all of which were about the treachery that was abandoning him with Kevin and Aaron—when Andrew returned to the room smelling of smoke.

 _1:37pm_ **_NEIL JOSTEN_ **

_1:38pm_ **_I TRUSTED U_ **

_1:38pm_ **_U DIRTY DOUBLE-CROSSER_ **

_1:39pm_ **_U CAN’T LEAVE ME WITH THESE PPL!!!! U ABANDONED ME 2 THE *STR8S*_ **

_1:43pm_ **_do u think kevin is straight???? i get bi vibes_ **

_2:06pm_ **_forewarning: kevin is “not fucking bi” and very touchy about it… some would say….. *too* touchy_ ** **_( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)_ **

Scrolling down, Neil counted sixty missed messages sent throughout the day. He was moved that Nicky missed him, but Neil secretly thought the man needed to get a hobby. He typed out a quick reply then snapped the phone shut and tossed it aside.

 _10:49pm_ **_Don’t antagonise Kevin. And don’t ever send me whatever that face is again._ **

Andrew joined him on the blanket and offered Neil the bottle of whiskey. Neil shook his head and Andrew put it aside without complaint, eyeing Neil’s phone across the room. 

In answer to his unasked question Neil said, ‘Whoever gave Nicky an unlimited data plan had no idea what they were unleashing on the world.’

Andrew snorted in agreement and shifted so their shoulders touched. The gesture caught Neil’s attention. Turning his head, he searched Andrew for an explanation; not just for the closeness, but for the whole day. Andrew’s eyes were scanning the room, as though he was trying to picture Neil spending most of his childhood in rooms almost identical to this one. 

‘Andrew,’ Neil said softly, so as not to break the quiet of the room.

‘Staring,’ Andrew returned.

Neil worked his jaw, trying to figure out a way to ask the question that had been playing on his mind all day: “Why are you doing all of this?” “Is the point to distract me?” “How did you know exactly what I needed?” Eventually, he settled on, ‘Why?’ and hoped Andrew would catch his meaning.

True to form, he did. ‘Because you aren’t ready to think about it yet.’

Andrew didn’t need to elaborate on what “it” was. Neil had thought his past died with Riko, then Mack had walked back into his life, bringing fragments of his dead past with her and, with some of it, came all of it. Neil learned the hard way that “all of it” is a lot to think about. 

‘Thank you.’

The words were out automatically and Neil didn’t regret them. Not even when Andrew raised a scornful eyebrow. ‘You’ve already said that,’ he said. ‘“Parakeet” might be more fitting than “rabbit” after all.’

‘Andrew, yes or no?’ Neil asked. 

He felt more than heard the hitch in Andrew’s breathing. ‘Yes.’

The kiss snatched the breath from Neil’s lungs. It was made more potent after spending the day reliving moments of his childhood, memories of the time when something like this wouldn’t have been possible. His mother would have pulverised him for this—for Andrew—and for letting himself grow complacent. 

Between Riko’s death, Neil’s sister coming back from the dead, and the dorms being full after the semester finished, Neil hadn’t gotten many moments alone with Andrew since before finals. They both felt the time between this kiss and the last like the pang of hunger a starving man feels when food first touches his lips.

Andrew’s hands found their way to Neil’s shoulders, bunching the fabric he found there before travelling down his arms and linking their fingers together. Andrew used his hold to push Neil until he was lying beneath him and broke away to search Neil’s features in the dark. Once Andrew was satisfied with whatever look the new position put on Neil’s face, he kissed him again.

The rest of the world fell away, and all Neil found himself capable of focussing on was the spot on his lip that Andrew sunk his teeth into.

—

Dinah chewed her lip in an attempt to look nervous. She jumped down from the stage to the sound of applause, not only from the table actually invested in the karaoke, but from most of the patrons in the bar. It was a nice little ego-stroke, but her attention was mainly fixed on the broad-shouldered man in the white, NFL shirt, his arms folded in a way that only made his muscles more impressive. 

His face, on the other hand, was less than impressed. 

‘Quite the set of pipes you have there,’ he muttered, guiding her over to a table, his hands surprisingly gentle considering his evident impatience. ‘I suppose I’ll have to keep that in mind.’

Feeling bold, Dinah placed a hand over his arm, feeling the smooth, slightly raised texture of the numerous scars there. ‘Would that be before or after you attempt to kidnap me?’ she asked sweetly.

Dorian pushed her down into a chair and quickly took the one adjacent to her. She felt the gun pressed to her side under the table and stiffened. 

‘We could have done this with less musical numbers,’ he said conversationally.

‘But where’s the fun in that?’ Dinah returned, ‘Or are you the kind of man to shy away from a challenge?’ 

Dinah was shocked at her own boldness. She blamed singing in front of people again. Singing had once been her avocation, as much as Exy had been Neil’s. She was riding her version of a post-game high right now, and not even the gun poking against her ribcage could bring her down.

For Dorian’s part, he looked at her like he couldn’t believe his rotten luck. ‘You want a challenge? Stop talking.’ There was a dark heat in his eyes that made Dinah shut up. She kept her lips clamped together even while she watched in bewilderment as he unloaded the gun and tipped the bullets into her clutch. They rattled alongside her phone. 

Dinah’s gaze whipped up, but before she could speak, Dorian nudged her with the now empty gun in warning. Reaching into her clutch, Dorian took her phone and typed out a text message under the table, showing it to her without hitting send. 

**_BEING WATCHED_ **

To show she understood, Dinah nodded minutely, keeping quiet.

‘Good girl,’ Dorian murmured. Dinah’s hackles raised. She opened her mouth to object but he interrupted her, ‘What do you say we get to know each other a little, hm?’ Dorian took Dinah’s hand and placed it over a rectangular lump at the base of his back. ‘Tell me, where did you learn to sing like that?’ Understanding pulled Dinah’s hand back quickly. He was wired. Which meant someone was listening to their every word.

Leaning on the truth, Dinah said, ‘I was an ugly child. My parents worried about my ability to find a husband. Apparently men like a woman who can sing, so I was taught.’ 

Dorian smiled like it hurt him to do so. ‘Theory: proven,’ he said, typing into the phone again.

‘Glad to know you agree with my parents,’ Dinah muttered dryly, peering at the message.

**_HOTEL ROOM_ **

**_TALK THERE_ **

‘I suppose that is one crucial step taken care of,’ Dorian said.

There was a natural progression from bar to hotel room that they could take, and thanks to some invisible enemy allegedly watching them, they would have to take it. Dinah kept her sulking internal. 

‘And what would you say the next step is?’ Dinah asked, silently—reluctantly—agreeing to his plan by leaning forwards slightly.

‘Come up to my room and I can show you.’ Dorian’s face was so close Dinah felt his breath on her lips. Alarmed by the unfamiliar intimacy of the sensation, she leaned back but Dorian caught her chin. His hand was so big he was practically holding her whole jaw between his thumb and forefinger. 

‘I’m not that kind of girl,’ Dinah said quickly.

‘Waiting till marriage?’

Dinah almost laughed. ‘My parents were concerned with potential spouses when I was five, what do you think?’

‘That it’d be a crying shame to limit yourself to one person. Especially looking like that.’ Dorian’s eyes flicked up and down Dinah’s jeans-and-faded-t-shirt ensemble, leaving her feeling cheap. _That’d better be part of the act or I am kicking this scumbag into next Wednesday,_ she thought.

‘Keep up the _flattery—’_ Dinah kicked him under the table. ‘—and I’ll go wherever you want.’

Rolling his eyes, Dorian took her arm and stood, holding her in front of him to hide the gun. He guided her discreetly out the door. Dinah winked at Rada to show him she was fine, and went with Dorian willingly. 

Just outside the bar, however, they were stopped.

‘Hell yeah! Go Tar Heels!’ 

Dorian mumbled profanities and turned a tense smile to the beefy-looking guy beaming at the logo stamped on Dorian’s shirt. _Wearing a marked shirt,_ Dinah thought, _rookie mistake._ In Dinah’s experience slogan t-shirts, sports merchandise, and minimal clothing often brought unwanted attention. She wondered how Dorian had never discovered this for himself.

‘Yeah, go Tar Heels,’ Dorian said with significantly less enthusiasm, relaxing his hold on Dinah’s arm, instead placing his hand on her waist. He tried to keep them moving at a casual pace but beefcake was leaping at the acknowledgement.

‘How crazy was last night’s game? Thorpe’s touchdown? In-sane,’ he said, unnecessarily splitting “insane” into two words.

Dorian’s fingers clenched on Dinah’s hip but she didn’t squirm. ‘Yeah, it was a great game. Sorry, man, I really gotta run—’

‘Hey did you know Renner’s my second-cousin? I bet I could get you an autograph if you really wanted one—’

Taking pity on Dorian, Dinah cut him off. ‘He’s not interested,’ she said, stepping forward. Dorian tried to pull her back but it was too late. Beefcake had already seen the gun.

‘Whoa whoa whoa, is that a _gun?’_ he yelled. Neither Dorian nor Dinah had a response for that. Beefcake’s eyes narrowed. ‘What’s going on here?’

Dorian laughed like he was embarrassed. ‘I’m so sorry. There’s been a misunderstanding.’ He held the gun up in clear sight.

‘What are you _doing?’_ Dinah asked urgently.

Dorian ignored her. ‘You see, sometimes we like to use a gun when we, you know… It’s not loaded.’ 

_I hate him,_ Dinah thought as she watched beefcake’s eyes widen. 

‘Oh, you mean— _oh.’_

Dorian laughed again. Dinah scowled before doing what she did best and improvised.

‘I swear to god, if you tell one more person about our sex life, it’s going to become _your_ sex life.’

‘Don’t be like that, baby,’ Dorian said, playing along.

Beefcake was walking away, apologizing as he went, and the moment he disappeared inside, Dinah shoved Dorian’s shoulder. 

Other than a slight twitching of his lips, Dorian didn’t respond. ‘Come on,’ he muttered, grabbing her again and leading her across the street to a hotel room on the third floor.

The second the door closed behind them, Dinah whirled to face Dorian—expletives ready on her lips—when she found them crushed against Dorian’s.

Dinah’s muscles locked as she froze. His lips were on hers, their chins bumping together, their noses slotted side-by-side. Dinah had never been so close to another person and the clenching in her gut stifled whatever sounds she might have otherwise made in protest. 

Dorian’s hands were hard on her shoulders, his mouth unyielding against hers, hot in a way that made Dinah’s blood run cold. He let go of her with one hand, reaching behind himself and dropping something to the floor with a clatter. Dinah remained rigid even as Dorian stomped down on the recording device she had felt under his shirt earlier. 

When his eyes met hers, they were concerned. ‘I needed them to believe I was on a hook-up. I’m sorry.’

Dinah’s mouth was frozen. The skin his lips had touched turned cold when the air hit them. Air. Dinah pulled in a shuddering breath.

‘Are you alright?’ Dorian asked, his jaw working.

Dinah punched him in it. The angle was awkward, but she’d been trained to take down people bigger than her. Dorian fell back against the door and blinked rapidly in shock. Dinah covered her fist. Dorian had a hard jaw and that hit was bound to bruise both of them. 

‘You should be,’ Dinah said.

‘I should be what?’

‘Sorry.’

‘Fair enough,’ Dorian conceded, rubbing his jaw and crossing the room to take a spot on the bed. 

Dinah followed, sitting across from him and admiring her stinging knuckles. ‘You could have picked any other cover story,’ she complained.

Dorian shook his head. ‘I never pick my own lies. It’s better to just let people assume whatever they want and go with that.’

‘In other words, you can’t lie for shit,’ Dinah grumbled. 

Checking his watch, Dorian snorted. ‘We’ve only got about forty minutes before they get suspicious. Is this really how you want to spend that time?’

It was not, but Dinah needed to check in with Stuart in case he went back on his word and barged in. ‘Forty minutes, huh?’ she scoffed, seeking out her phone from her clutch. ‘Someone’s optimistic.’

Dorian’s smile was reluctant and exasperated, but undeniably there. ‘Look, I need Lola Malcolm dead. You clearly—for whatever reason—want her dead. I think we could help each other.’

‘Why do I “clearly” want her dead?’ Dinah asked, hitting send.

 _12:03am_ **_40 mins._ **

Dorian was looking at her funny when she met his eye. ‘Were you not under that van with a gun?’

Shrugging, Dinah said, ‘Maybe I was aiming at your father.’

Something seemed to settle in Dorian’s stare. ‘So you do know who I am.’

‘I do,’ Dinah said, ‘though “Darren” is pretty foolproof as far as aliases go.’

‘And you came anyway,’ Dorian went on, ignoring her.

Dinah swallowed. ‘You could say I was curious.’

Leaning forward, Dorian searched her gaze for a moment before asking, ‘Do I get to know your name?’

‘No,’ Dinah said simply. She already knew a man like Dorian had a game, and in that game he liked to have the power. Threatening her with her own gun, unloading it like he was doing her a favour, kissing her without giving Dinah so much as a warning. He wanted the power so, even knowing that it was only providing more incentive for him to search for a name, Dinah wasn’t going to give him one.

Dorian accepted her answer with a nod.

'Who's watching you?' Dinah asked.

'Take a wild guess.'

Dinah supposed she shouldn't be surprised. Lola worked her way to the top quickly when her family joined ranks with Dinah's, it was only safe to assume that she would do the same when faced with another hierarchy. If she'd caught wind of Dorian's hostility or disapproval, she'd be making friends and those friends would keep an eye on him for her. Dinah really would be impressed under different circumstances.

‘Why do you need Lola dead?’ she asked.

Thinking for a moment, Dorian asked, ‘How much do you know about my family?’

‘I know that they worked with Wesninski before his circle was decimated,’ Dinah started. ‘I know Hitchener’s people killed one of their wives and then a shit load of their people when they retaliated.’

‘My wife,’ Dorian said, bringing Dinah to a halt. ‘They killed my wife and her unborn child.’

‘Oh,’ Dinah said lamely. What was there to say to a revelation like that? Especially when Dorian lacked the haunted look Dinah had observed in most widowers’ eyes.

‘There wasn’t any love between us,’ Dorian explained. ‘The marriage was arranged when we were sixteen, the child wasn’t even mine, it was my father’s.’ Dinah repressed a shudder. Dorian couldn’t be much older than her, possibly younger, and Tristan Landler had looked to be at least in his sixties. 

‘I never wanted to be in this business,’ Dorian went on. ‘My mother never wanted it for me, but she couldn’t keep me from my father. After Hitchener took out half of my father’s circle I thought it’d be easy to decimate the rest of his alliances from within.’ 

Dinah was starting to form an image in her head. ‘But with Lola comes more allies,’ she said.

Dorian seemed surprised by the interruption. ‘Yes, exactly. Allies, and connections, and war—’

‘War?’ Dinah interrupted again. ‘You don’t mean—’

‘Are you liable to let me finish?’ Dorian asked, irritated. 

Dinah shrugged. ‘We only have a small window of opportunity. I’m just spurring the process along.’

Huffing, Dorian continued, ‘Yes, war. With bigger gangs than Hitchener, Landler, and Wesninski combined. Wars I don’t want to have to fight when my father eventually steps down.’ Dinah frowned. ‘And no, I’m not going to the Feds,’ Dorian added, making Dinah snort.

‘So you can get shot in witness protection?’ she said derisively. ‘Give me some credit.’

Dorian appraised Dinah with a look of vague approval for that. ‘You need an inside man, and I need someone on the outside who can get information I can’t.’

‘Symbiosis,’ Dinah muttered, images of birds and rhinos flitting through her mind’s eye.

‘What?’

‘Never mind. I still don’t understand why.’

Dorian sat a little straighter. ‘Why what?’

‘Why you want out, why you think you can actually leave all this behind.’ Dinah had thought about running away countless times when she was little. The first time when she was seven after watching her father cleave through a man’s arm, slicing it clean off, and cauterising the wound so he wouldn’t bleed out before her father was finished. She’d been sick with terror, but her mother had caught her at the door.

 _‘And just where will you go?’_ she had asked. 

_‘I’ll go to Uncle Stuart’s,’_ Dinah had replied.

Her mother had stroked her hair. She’d been gentler back then. _‘Do you really think your Uncle Stuart’s never killed anyone? Or Grandpa? Or anyone who could possibly take you in?’_

No. The answer had been no. Dinah had grown up surrounded by people who dabbled in power and pain, and she didn’t know any different. If she ran, this life would catch up with her. She could try to be a barista in a small town, but eventually someone would track her down. She had no delusions about the kind of life she’d be leaving behind. Even now, she knew someone was bound to take her out, probably before her twenty-fifth birthday, so what would make Dorian want to risk it?

‘The baby wasn’t mine,’ Dorian said, shifting uncomfortably. ‘But if it had been, I—’ The haunted widower look that had been missing from his eyes earlier made a surprise appearance and Dinah’s interest piqued at the sight of it. ‘I want a different life for myself; one that can’t coexist with the one I’m currently living. Is that answer enough?’

Dinah thought the man was doomed. Doomed to die or live in unhappiness, it didn’t matter which. Either way, his aspirations for the family life or whatever the fuck he wanted were entirely doomed to fail. But that wasn’t Dinah’s problem. All that concerned her was what he could do for her and what he could do was get her close enough to Lola so she could end this once and for all. 

‘Where do we start?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we have it!! Thank you so much for reading, please leave a kudos or a comment if you enjoyed!!  
> I especially would like opinions on whether or not I should include a more raunchy—yet tasteful—Andreil scene in the next chapter of this fic. I love writing these two but I don't know if this fic is really the place for it?? I was considering writing an independent oneshot about an extended version of Andrew and Neil's little road trip with less angst and more fluff. What do you guys think??  
> Thanks so much to those who checked in on me during my mini-haitus, and THANK YOU, all of you, for reading this fic and for sticking with it. Even through my sporadic updates due to uni kicking my ass this semester, I kept getting comments and messages that made me smile so big. This fandom is so so wonderful and I really do enjoy writing this particular work, I'm just happy other people enjoy reading it too!!


	9. Summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinah gets some revelations and Neil joins the Foxes' group chat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eyyyy more Mack!!
> 
> I just want to say thank you for all the comments on the last chapter, they really made me so emotional. I hope you guys enjoy the update!!

Andrew’s pass landed heavily in the net of Neil’s racquet, the impact sending a jolt up his forearms. Neil twisted and fired back on goal, watching as the ball soared through the air and fell neatly back into Andrew’s possession. Not even Kevin could be annoyed with Neil’s off-game when Andrew was giving his all in practice.

Twice a week, Kevin and Neil dragged the whole group of them out to the Foxhole Court to practice. That morning, however, Andrew had inexplicably elected to leave Aaron behind, and Nicky had remained with him—he claimed “in solidarity” but they all knew he was just using this time to sleep. 

Though neither Kevin nor Neil knew what exactly had transpired between the brothers, it was clear that Andrew was taking his aggression out on the court.

‘I’m not complaining,’ Kevin said, sidling over to Neil and signalling Andrew across the court to take a break, ‘but what’s gotten into him?’

Neil shrugged and pulled off his helmet. ‘How should I know?’ 

In truth, Neil had a theory. Betsy Dobson had become a referee for Aaron and Andrew and, without their weekly sessions, their gameplay had turned foul. Tensions were high back at the house since Aaron announced he’d be spending a few days with Katelyn’s family and, though Neil would never presume to know the intricate workings of Andrew’s mind, he had a strong suspicion that this aggression had manifested from concern. 

Not that he would share any of these thoughts with Kevin, who was giving him a dubious look. ‘Well, whatever it is, do you think you can do it again during the season?’

It was Neil’s turn to look dubious. ‘You think  _ I  _ did this?’

Kevin rolled his eyes. ‘Andrew hasn’t looked away from you since you got back from Detroit.’ Kevin’s reproving look told Neil he was still annoyed at them for that little stunt. ‘What else could it be about?’ 

Neil followed the line of Kevin’s vision and met Andrew’s gaze, already on him as though to illustrate Kevin’s words. Kevin cuffed him on the shoulder as he passed and Neil scowled in irritation. These observations were starting to feel intrusive. 

‘Don’t you have more important things to think about?’ Neil asked, matching Kevin’s strides.

‘What’s more important than keeping Andrew motivated?’ 

‘What about whatever Jean called you about last night?’

Kevin whirled on him. ‘How do you know about that?’

‘I heard you speaking French on the phone.’

When Jean had left to play for the Trojans, Kevin had said it was for the best, and Neil had understood why. Kevin and Jean had witnessed each other at their lowest points, and that wasn’t something either of them could forget. Neil understood the necessity of their separation even better since reuniting with his sister and wondered if her decision to stay away was similar to Jean and Kevin’s reasons for being apart. Though, apparently Jean wasn’t as allergic to phone calls as Mack. 

Not that Neil was bitter. Not at all. 

He watched Kevin swallow and waited patiently for a reply. Kevin sighed. ‘Sometimes Jean forgets things.’

‘Forgets things?’

Kevin nodded solemnly. ‘About the Nest. He forgets if something really happened or if it was a dream, so he calls me and I tell him.’

Pity for Jean and hate for Riko warred with each other inside of Neil. He was lucky enough to not remember most of his time in the Ravens’ Nest, but Jean had been trapped there for so much longer. 

Neil was pulled out of his thoughts by Wymack’s fist thumping against the plexiglass. He signalled over his head—in a way that reminded Neil of Kevin—to meet him in his office. Neil held a thumb up and turned back to Kevin. 

‘It’s good,’ he said, somewhat awkwardly. ‘That Jean has you, I mean.’

Kevin’s frown cleared and it left him looking vulnerable. ‘Uh, yeah.’

‘Mm.’ Neil scratched the back of his neck. ‘I’ll go see what Coach wants.’ 

‘You do that,’ Kevin replied, making his way over to Andrew and their small pile of towels and water bottles. 

Neil caught up to Wymack before he could make it back to his office, so Wymack stopped to lean over a barrier up in a spectator’s box. It was a welcome change to see the man’s forehead lined with mere age and not stress. Neil was sure he could attribute at least one of those crinkles to the events of last year and hoped for an uneventful season, for their coach’s sake. 

‘How goes the recruiting?’ Neil asked in greeting, standing next to Wymack but peering down at where Andrew was twirling his racquet around his head.

Wymack scoffed. ‘Your tunnel vision is at once shocking and reliable.’

‘Then does it really come as a shock?’

‘Touché.’ Wymack favoured Neil with what he had come to realise was a fond look. ‘Did Aaron and Nicky get left on the I-95?’ 

Neil pulled a face. ‘Cabin fever, I think. Andrew needed some space.’ The sound of Andrew lobbing a ball into the plexiglass at the opposite end of the court resounded through the otherwise empty stadium. 

‘I’ll say,’ Wymack said, pulling a face that was at once a look of wonder and a grimace, then turned to Neil. ‘There’s something I wanted to run by you. I already cleared it with Dan, but you can say no.’

Neil was confused by Dan’s involvement before he realised what that must mean. ‘I hope you know that if you’ve decided to give Kevin Vice-Captaincy the team will cry nepotism.’

‘I’m not firing you, smartass,’ Wymack grumbled. ‘I’m flying out to Alabama in a week to recruit Sheena Chesney. Dan and I think it would be good if you came along, gave a pitch, maybe a pointer or two, something to give her a glimpse at the kind of team the Foxes  are. What do you think?’

Sheena Chesney had been Neil’s choice from the pool of possible recruits. She was a striker, 5’7, with exceptionally good exy stats and an exceptionally bad record with drugs. What had made her stick out to Neil was the fact that she’d started out the season as a dealer and switched positions. Her improvement showed that switching had obviously been the right move and Neil hoped to see her continue to grow as a striker on the Foxes’ team. But he wasn’t sure if he was the right person to convince her. 

Seeming to see the doubt on Neil’s face, Wymack sighed. ‘Let me know by Wednesday if I’m booking two tickets or one, okay?’ At Neil’s nod, Wymack turned back to where Kevin was yelling incoherently at Andrew. ‘Now get back down there before those two do each other in.’

‘Sure thing, Coach,’ Neil said, backing away and feeling a small smile pull at the corner of his mouth.

— 

‘I am only going to ask this question one more time,’ Helena said, her voice as low and menacing as she could possibly make it. ‘What is Lola planning?’

From the stairwell, Dinah rolled her eyes. Helena had been interrogating Maxwell Malcolm—Lola’s cousin—for over an hour and was getting nowhere. It wasn’t even like Dinah could step in; she had already tried for an hour and a half before Helena took over.

So now she was sulking in the dank, concrete stairwell of her uncle’s torture warehouse, texting despondent updates to Dorian whenever he checked in. Sometimes he sent her a less than helpful suggestion, his most recent being:

_ 3:14am  _ **_Have you tried being scarier?_ **

Dinah almost didn’t dignify it with a response. Almost.

_ 3:17am  _ **_I left my intimidation tools at home, my bad._ **

She only had to wait a few moments for a reply.

_ 3:18am  _ **_You can’t exactly sing at him until he talks._ **

_ 3:18am  _ **_Although I would like to see that._ **

Bitterness curled Dinah’s lip into a snarl. He was toying with her, just like Maxwell was. 

_ 3:19am  _ **INCOMING CALL: PRIVATE NUMBER**

Dinah answered reluctantly and with a sigh. There was only one person who had this number. ‘What do you want?’

‘Send me your location. I’m coming to speed the process along,’ Dorian replied, his voice tinny and warped by burner-phone static. 

Dinah laughed mockingly. ‘Thank you for the kind offer, but we’ve got this.’ The sound of Maxwell grunting in pain over Helena’s fast whispers came from the room behind Dinah and her pulse quickened in anticipation. From the sounds of it, Helena was making headway.

‘Can you just tell me where you are? I want to hear what he has to say for myself anyway.’

‘Then I’ll happily put you on speaker,’ Dinah said firmly, then got an idea. ‘There’s no need to come down here,  _ Landler.’ _

The slight emphasis on Dorian’s name had the desired effect, resulting in Maxwell’s soft chanting of  _ “no, no, no, no.”  _

Dinah smiled despite having just signed Maxwell Malcolm’s death warrant. They couldn’t risk letting anyone learn about Dorian’s alliance with Dinah and, although Maxwell was no Lola, he would still have to be put down. Whether or not he deserved this fate wasn’t a train of thought worth following. 

Dorian’s voice was smug. ‘I know what you’re doing, and I know where you are. See you in forty.’ The line went dead. 

Dinah looked at the phone screen. The call had gone for under a minute, but of course the asshole had state-of-the-art tracing technology. ‘God damn it!’ Dinah kicked the wall in frustration and went back into the dark room where Helena was digging a knife under Maxwell’s fingernails. 

Helena looked up as she approached. ‘What was that all about?’ she asked over Maxwell’s string of expletives. 

‘Landler’s on his way. You want to get out of here?’

Shaking her head, Helena turned back to the task at hand. ‘Nobody knows who I am in this country. Plus being a woman provides a handy little curtain of anonymity.’ The two of them shared a brief look of concord and Dinah crossed the room to shove the phone into her backpack. It landed clunkily against the arsenal of guns and knives. 

‘You feel like talking yet, Max?’ Dinah asked.

Maxwell smiled, showing off the blood on his teeth. ‘A weak bidge ‘ike you ain’ gettin’ me d’ say shihd,’ he said, slightly garbled around his bitten tongue. 

‘Nice,’ Dinah muttered, ‘because losing your balls to a “strong man” is so much more honourable?’

Spitting a glob of blood in Dinah’s direction, Maxwell laughed. ‘You don’ ‘ave wha’ it takes.’

Helena sighed before knocking Maxwell out with the hilt of the knife, wiping the blade on his trouser leg. ‘If it’s a man he wants, we just have to wait,’ she said, coming to sit next to Dinah. ‘I have said it once, I have said it a hundred times, kiska. The mafia is a sausage fest.’

‘—sausage fest,’ Dinah finished glumly, well familiar with that particular mantra. ‘I wish you’d call it a boy’s club or something. The word “sausage” makes me want to hurl.’

‘Oh, because “balls” is so much better.’

‘A sausage is a  _ food,’  _ Dinah argued. ‘Have some decency.’

‘Said one assassin to the other.’

There wasn’t really anything Dinah could say to that. 

Helena stretched and offered Dinah her knife. ‘Care for a go while we wait?’

Dinah shook her head and rummaged through the backpack for her shurikens. She’d been training with them for weeks and found them a less-daunting alternative to knives. Dinah took them out and held them up so Helena could see. ‘I’m conserving my energy for someone else.’

Helena raised her eyebrows. ‘You know, in Russia getting a ninja star thrown at you is the first stage of courtship.’

Dinah laughed. ‘Get fucked.’

‘This is true! Rada and I met at gunpoint.’ 

‘I think that’s more of an occupational hazard than a provincial thing,’ Dinah pointed out and Helena shrugged. They passed the time as they usually did; Helena pissing on the patriarchy and Dinah nodding along. 

They were interrupted when Dorian stepped into the doorway. Dinah loosed a shuriken, satisfaction curling in her chest when it buried itself in the wall beside Dorian’s head. Some of her anger dissipated in the face of his shock. 

‘Code word, or the next one goes in your skull,’ Dinah said, putting the other shuriken in her right hand—she may not like Dorian, but she wasn’t taking any chances with aim.

Dorian looked put-upon. ‘Seriously? You can clearly see that it’s me. The code word is for radio recognition.’

‘And to determine that you’re acting of your own volition.’ Dinah smirked and cocked her head. ‘Say it.’

Groaning, Dorian rubbed his eyes then mumbled, ‘Beefcake.’ 

Dinah dropped the shuriken back in the bag. ‘See? That wasn’t so hard.’

Dorian scowled and peered past Dinah at Helena. ‘You have a friend. Colour me shocked.’ 

‘Probably because she doesn’t speak a lick of English,’ Dinah said before Helena could say anything. It was safer to leave the talking to one person to avoid conflicting lies, and Helena knew that. Dinah had picked up a little Russian through spending time with Helena, but nowhere near enough to string together a fluent sentence. ‘Nozh temnyy sinyak v mikrovolnovke,’ she said nonsensically.

Helena’s eye twitched, like she was trying to hide a smile before she reached into the bag and pulled out a small handgun. She put it in Dinah’s hand and murmured something in Russian. Dinah picked out the word for careful and Helena’s favourite nickname for her. “Kitten.”

Nodding her assent, Dinah glanced at Dorian. ‘You ready to earn your keep?’ 

Dorian inclined his head and reached behind him, withdrawing a pair of sickles, of all things. Dorian noticed her attention. ‘Problem?’

Dinah eyed the sickles. ‘How American of you.’

His choice in blade was interesting. From what Dinah knew about Dorian so far, it was clear that he shared Dinah’s distaste for his father’s legacy. He had also spoken with fondness about his mother. The possibility occurred to her that Dorian’s mother’s side hailed from a farming background and he used sickles to honour her. Such an obscure weapon usually had personal connotations behind it, like Dinah’s shurikens. 

Dorian’s eyes catalogued her reaction and for a brief moment, Dinah worried that in using one, she had given too much about herself away; that Dorian had drawn these same conclusions about her.

Instead, he smiled. ‘So you  _ are _ British. I wondered at the accent drop during our last encounter.’

Dinah scoffed and turned her back on him, crossing to the darkest corner of the room. ‘I didn’t drop shit.’

‘Sure you did,’ Dorian said smugly. ‘It was right after I kissed you.’

Dinah whirled around, catching Helena’s raised eyebrows in her periphery. She opened her mouth to snarl at him, but her continued confusion surrounding that kiss stopped her. In lieu of saying anything, she reached behind her and turned the tap, raining icy water down on Maxwell’s unconscious head and catching Dorian in the stream. 

Dorian’s smirk was short-lived. As soon as Maxwell sputtered awake, Dorian’s face went terrifyingly—beautifully—blank. Dinah found herself glad for it. She was sure that staying to watch wouldn’t be an option for her if Dorian turned out to be the kind of man who smiled while he made someone scream. 

‘Good morning,’ Dorian said pleasantly, rolling up the sleeves on his black, button-up shirt. 

Maxwell coughed. ‘Who ‘n hell‘re you?’ he asked through chattering teeth.

‘I’m the man your cousin’s making life mighty difficult for.’

‘Shi’,’ Maxwell swore in realisation. ‘Land’er junior.’ Dinah swallowed around the word “junior.” She missed her brother terribly and knew he would never approve of what she was doing, but all of this was, in part, for him. That knowledge would have to sustain her for now, until it was safe to reach out again.

‘Nice to know my reputation precedes me,’ Dorian said. Dinah couldn’t see him very well from the shadows, but somehow she knew the sentiment wasn’t genuine. ‘You know who I am, so you know there are three ways we can do this. You can tell me what you know of Lola’s plans and I can make you disappear. Somewhere up north maybe, or Mexico, wherever you like—’

‘Excuse me?’ Dinah asked, displeased with the way this was going.

Dorian shushed her. Dinah’s grip tightened on the pistol she was suddenly all too aware she was holding. She hated to be shushed. ‘The second way,’ Dorian continued, ‘is that I torture you slowly and painfully until you tell me what I want to know anyway.’ 

Maxwell sounded much less sure of himself when he next spoke. ‘And the third?’

‘I’ll kill you,’ Dorian said simply. ‘We have other ways of finding out what she’s up to and I’m not in a patient mood.’

‘I dunno much,’ Maxwell said, still shivering.

‘As much as you can tell us and you can go on your way. You know how good I am at getting people off the grid.’

The hours of effort Dinah and Helena had put into making the misogynistic bastard talk ended up being wasted. When Dorian’s offer loosened Maxwell’s lips, Helena threw her arms up in the air and came to stand by Dinah, irritation radiating from her as she tapped her foot. Dinah, though also annoyed, was too caught up in what Maxwell was saying to pay Helena much mind. 

Allegedly, Lola had spent a lot of time in Pennsylvania; Hitchener territory. Maxwell claimed Lola had hinted at playing the two gangs against each other when they’d last spoken, hedging her bets by acting as a double agent to both Landler and Hitchener. Dinah frowned incredulously at that particular fact, and Dorian echoed her doubt by interrupting.

‘You’re saying Lola’s in bed with Hitchener as well as my father?’

Maxwell guffawed. ‘Naw, er’yone knows Hitch’ner’s gay ‘s an’thin’. He’s got sumthin’ else in mind for ‘er.’

Dorian paced along the ground in front of Maxwell. ‘And what would that be?’ 

‘Hitch’ner wants tha’ Wesninski brat dead almos’ as much as Lola does.’

Dinah stiffened and Helena held out a hand to keep her steady. ‘Wesninski?’ Dorian asked. ‘His circle was broken down months ago.’

‘Not  _ Nathan, _ ’ Maxwell said, the name sounding like “Nafan” in his swollen mouth.  _ ‘Nathaniel.’ _

A cold sense of calm overtaking her, Dinah stepped forward and cocked the gun, touching the barrel to the back of Maxwell’s head. ‘Nathaniel Wesninski is owned by Moriyama. Does Lola have a way around that?’ Dinah asked, her heart making for a painful lump in her throat.

‘Kiska,’ Helena said, reaching for her arm. Dinah shook her off.

‘What does she have planned?’ Dinah gritted out, her jaw aching with something like fear but stronger.

Maxwell didn’t help himself by laughing. ‘You dumb bidge. She’s  _ Lola,  _ I don’ think even  _ she  _ knows wha’ she’s gonna do. But it ain’ gonna be pretty.’

Dinah grabbed a fistful of Maxwell’s damp, brown hair, ignoring his groan. ‘What does she know?’

‘I’ve tol’ you ev’ry’in!’

With a yell of her own, Dinah shoved Maxwell’s head forward and backed away. Her brother wasn’t right beside her anymore, not like he had been for years. He was miles away, vulnerable where Dinah couldn’t protect him. Her hand holding the gun started to shake. Dinah gripped it with both hands to steady herself.

‘Nathaniel,’ Dorian said slowly, like he was remembering something. ‘He’d be what, nineteen? What’s the kid mean to you?’

Dinah pulled a deep breath through her nose. She was about to tell Dorian to mind his business when Maxwell burst into hysterical laughter.

‘Oh! Oh, I know you,’ he exclaimed.

Dinah scowled. ‘We’ve never met.’

‘Us, no,’ Maxwell said. ‘Bu’ your mom an’ I had some fun back in the day.’ 

There were only two kinds of fun he could be talking about, and Dinah knew her mother well enough to rule out the kind involving sex. At least consensual sex. Dinah felt sick. 

‘Lola’s been wond’rin’ if you survived.’

Dinah did what her mother would have wanted her to do and shot him in the back of the head.

— 

Sheena Chesney was the first out of the locker room, as though she was eager to leave. Wymack and Neil had flown to Birmingham, Alabama early that morning to meet with Sheena and Coach Tawdry. They were only there for a few hours before flying home that night, so Wymack didn’t bother hiring a car.

The Foxes’ group chat had enjoyed the photo Neil sent them from his new smartphone.

**Dan** _3:15pm_ ** _HOW DID U GET HIM 2 DO THAT????_**

 **Neil** _3:15pm_ ** _Ride the bus or take the photo?_**

 **Dan** _3:16pm_ ** _do u kno how long we have tried to get a selfie with coach???_**

 **Matt** _3:16pm_ ** _It’s the *Neil Magic*_**

 **Allison** _3:18pm_ ** _he’ll be the first to take one with the monster too_**

 **Matt** _3:18pm_ ** _Is that a bet?_**

 **Allison** _3:20pm_ ** _fifty bucks on neil_**

 **Matt** _3:20pm_ ** _Your on_**

Neil waited for someone to correct Matt’s grammar but it was yet to happen. Now, after catching the end of James Rose High School’s summer practice, he and Wymack were waiting in Coach Tawdry’s office while he went to fetch Sheena. 

Neil was jittery and Wymack, ever vigilant, noticed. ‘You nervous?’

‘A little,’ Neil admitted.

Wymack laughed humorlessly. ‘Kid. There is no way this could go any worse than when we came to Millport to recruit you.’ 

The memory did little to reassure Neil. He had joined the Foxes because he had nothing else. He wanted Sheena to join the team because she wanted to play for PSU, not because she was lacking in the options department.

When Coach Tawdry came back with a defensive Sheena in tow, Wymack and Neil stood up.

‘Sheena, this is Coach David Wymack of the PSU Foxes, and Neil Josten,’ Tawdry introduced them.

‘Neil’s my Vice-Captain,’ Wymack added, sticking out a hand for Sheena to shake. She shook it.

‘Good for you,’ Sheena said, her dark eyes wary as they tracked over Neil’s scars. Neil felt his cheeks heat up but didn’t look away. This was something he needed to get used to. Though he was thankful for the armbands covering the worst of his scarring, there was nothing to hide the scars on his face. Sheena would get used to them, if she decided to sign with the Foxes. ‘Why are you here?’

Neil let Wymack do most of the talking, opting to watch Sheena’s reactions instead. She remained nonplussed throughout the pitch, nodding vaguely and giving quiet responses when they were required of her. 

‘Take some time to mull it over and Coach Tawdry can get back to us on Monday.’

‘Thanks,’ Sheena said, taking the papers Wymack handed her and glancing at Neil once more before leaving the office.

‘Timid little thing,’ Tawdry commented once the door had shut behind her. ‘Or so I’d think if I hadn’t seen her play.’

Wymack looked considering. ‘A far cry from the last recruit you sent my way.’

Laughing sadly, Tawdry clapped Wymack on the shoulder. ‘I was sorry to hear about Seth last year, David. That couldn’t have been easy.’

‘Wait, this was Seth’s school?’ Neil asked. Wymack nodded, frowning. ‘I’ll be right back,’ Neil said, and bolted after Sheena.

The thing about Seth Gordon was that he had been so outspoken because he’d believed he deserved better. The few times he and Neil had interacted, Seth had been bemoaning Kevin’s existence and cursing his lot in life. He’d been angry and, though Neil didn’t think Sheena was angry by nature, he’d seen her on the court. She played like she had something to prove, and that had given Neil an idea.

He caught up to her in the parking lot. ‘Sheena, wait!’

Sheena glanced over her shoulder, seemingly surprised by Neil’s approach. ‘What do you want?’

‘You’re not going to sign, are you?’

Now Sheena glared. ‘I thought I had the weekend to think about it.’

‘Bullshit,’ Neil said. ‘You decided against signing before Coach even gave the pitch. Why?’

‘Is this some kind of sales tactic?’ When Neil gazed evenly at her, Sheena rolled her eyes. ‘I’m not an idiot, okay? You want me for your team so you can fill some kind of diversity quota or to prove you’re not sexist or some other shit. I know there’s no future for women in exy.’

Neil started to smile in realisation. ‘You want to go pro.’

‘It’s just not realistic,’ Sheena continued to argue, her face lighting up with the fire that Neil had seen on the court. ‘No college team, other than yours, wants to take me on, and sure as eggs is eggs, no professional team. Do you know how many women go pro? One in thirty.’ Sheena took a deep breath, her eyes starting to shine. ‘Those are odds I’m just not prepared to face so, thank you, but I’ll pass.’

‘You know, I get feeling like you don’t deserve something good,’ Neil said lowly as she started to walk away, stopping her in her tracks. He went on. ‘When I first joined the Foxes I was homeless, squatting in the locker room, and I thought I deserved it. I didn’t know how to work with people, but I knew how to work on a team, so I gave everything I had on the court. Joining a college team wasn’t something I planned on doing, but there weren’t any alternatives for me.’

‘I have plenty of alternatives,’ Sheena snapped, keeping her back to Neil.

‘I know,’ he said. ‘But after watching you play… It would be a shame to see all that go to waste. Exy is clearly important to you. You have to give it a shot, even if the odds are against you. Our captain knows all about facing adversity in exy and she would say: especially if the odds are against you.’

Neil felt strange to be speaking on Dan’s behalf but, in retrospect, she was probably the one who should have come to recruit Sheena. Neil didn’t gamble, but he would bet that Dan knew about that one-in-thirty stat.

‘All I’m saying is that, it doesn’t matter if you choose Palmetto. If you pick another team in our district then I look forward to facing you on the court. But I thought you’d do well with the Foxes when I picked your file, and now that I’ve met you, I know you’re a good fit for our team.’

Sheena seemed to mull that over for a moment before turning to face him. ‘Do you still feel like you don’t deserve it?’

Neil shrugged. ‘I’m getting there. Look, the offer’s good. Just, give the idea a chance. Signing with the Foxes was the single most stupid, best thing I ever did.’

Sheena surprised Neil with a laugh. ‘You are passionate, I’ll give you that.’ She glanced down at the forms she was still holding, biting her lip in thought. ‘I’ll think about it,’ she said, walking away.

Breathing a long sigh, Neil started back to Wymack. His phone buzzed in his pocket. 

**Nicky** _4:59pm_ ** _[Photo attachment]_**

 **Nicky** _4:59pm_ ** _boom. selfie with andrew_**

**Nicky** _ 4:59pm  _ **_pay up FUCKERS_ **

**Allison** _5:00pm_ ** _no fucking way_**

**Neil** _ 5:00pm  _ **_That’s Aaron, Nicky. Surely you can tell them apart by now._ **

**Matt** _ 5:01pm  _ **_LMFAOOO_ **

**Dan** _ 5:01pm  _ **_neil i HEARD that_ **

**Nicky** _5:01pm_ ** _betRAYAL_** **(ㄒoㄒ)**

— 

Two weeks after killing Maxwell Malcolm and disposing of his body, Dinah got a message from her uncle. 

_ 8:27pm  _ **_Go outside._ **

Dinah’s current place of residence was an apartment in Wilmington. It was still an uncomfortable four-hundred and eighty kilometres from Neil, but it was closer than the one she’d previously been holed up in off the coast of Virginia. 

When Dinah received the shady text from Stuart, she edged towards the window and out onto the fire-escape. Looking down, she caught sight of an expensive-looking black car with tinted windows. 

‘The fuck…’ Dinah muttered to herself. That wasn’t Stuart’s car, which only left one possibility. Ichirou Moriyama was finally checking in. 

She knew it was silly, but Dinah straightened her appearance on the four-flight walk down to the ground floor, rebraiding her hair so it covered the one scar she never let anyone see. 

At the entrance to the lobby, she was greeted by a big guy in a suit and dark sunglasses. The second she made eye-contact with him behind the shades, he turned and walked to the car. Dinah knew to follow even if every one of her instincts was screaming at her to run in the opposite direction. 

The back seat was empty, confusing Dinah until Shades started driving.  _ Moriyama must want to meet in a secondary location,  _ Dinah reasoned. She settled herself in for a long drive but startled when the car ground to a stop after only five minutes had passed. Shades got out of the car and opened the door for her, revealing the dusty back road where another unmarked car was parked adjacent to them. Dinah was about to thank him when he cocked a gun and aimed it at her.

‘Move,’ he ordered.

Dinah’s hands flew up, palms facing him to show him she wasn’t armed as she cautiously shuffled out onto the uneven bitchumen. Shades grabbed her arm and marched her to the other car. Dinah’s heart pounded against her rib cage. It would seem she had horribly misread the situation and was now defenseless and entirely at Shades’ mercy. 

‘Open the door and get in,’ Shades said in a low voice and Dinah fumbled to do as he asked. 

Another gun clicked as the door opened and she instinctively flinched back from the sound. 

‘Mary,’ a voice from inside purred. ‘It’s kind of you to join us.’

Wide eyed and terrified, Dinah hurriedly sat in the backseat. Opposite her sat Ichirou Moriyama, who appraised her with hungry eyes, beside him a body-guard with a gun trained right on Dinah’s heart, and beside her sat Dorian. His jaw was locked with tension, hands fisted on top of his knees, his eyes facing forward so he didn’t look at Dinah.

Remembering her manners and steeling her nerves, Dinah bowed her head. ‘Lord Moriyama,’ she murmured. ‘I admit, I’m a little in the dark here. To what do I owe this pleasure?’

Moriyama seemed amused by her polite conduct in the face of being held at gunpoint. ‘It’s nothing personal, I assure you. This is a matter of insurance. Now—’ Moriyama shifted his gaze back to Dorian. ‘—are you ready to cooperate?’

Sighing, Dorian glanced at Dinah and gave a curt nod.

‘Excellent,’ Moriyama said. ‘As I was saying, I understand the need for the removal of Lola Malcolm, but any hindrance on my operation is a disruption I simply cannot tolerate.’

‘I understand,’ Dorian replied, sounding like a scolded child.

Moriyama raised his eyebrows. ‘Understand this, Landler. If you continue to breach my firewalls and gather intel on my property, your wife will not be the only woman to die from your tactlessness.’

Afraid to even twitch, Dinah held her breath. She had no idea why she was being used as a hostage, but there were more important things to worry about. Dorian’s wife was a sore-spot for him and Moriyama had just hit it with a hammer. Now Dinah worried Dorian would lash out and get them both killed. 

Unthinkingly, Dinah touched Dorian’s arm, just above his elbow, the anger in his eyes softening slightly as he read the warning in hers. ‘Yes, my Lord,’ Dorian said, his arm rigid under Dinah’s fingertips, ‘I understand.’

‘Then that will be all,’ Moriyama said by way of dismissal. Dorian opened his door and Dinah went to do the same on her side when Moriyama stopped her with a hand on her arm, a mockery of the way she’d grabbed Dorian. Dinah froze in place. ‘And Mary, don’t forget, just because I don’t own you doesn’t mean I can’t control you.’ Moriyama touched the end of her braid and Dinah shivered. ‘Everyone’s got their price.’

Dinah flicked her hair back over her shoulder. ‘Yes, my Lord,’ she said between clenched teeth. Then, pulse racing and unable to stop herself, ‘I won’t forget that you don’t own me.’ 

Moriyama’s smile reminded Dinah of fairy tales she would read as a child.  _ Should you meet the big bad wolf, never stay to chatter. From the wicked creature run, fast as you can patter.  _ Dinah’s legs tensed to do just that but Moriyama only settled back in his seat.

‘What you lack of your brother’s silver tongue you more than make up for in boldness,’ Moriyama stated. ‘For now it is amusing but my patience for such disrespect wears thin.’ 

Nodding, Dinah climbed out of the car and closed the door behind her. Both vehicles drove off, leaving her and Dorian where they stood, a car’s distance apart. Impulsively, Dinah reached down and grabbed a rock which she then hurled at Dorian, hitting him in the back of the leg.

He swore and spun around, scowling. ‘Problem?’ he gritted out.

Dinah laughed bitterly. ‘Do I have a problem? Why don’t you tell me, person-my-survival-depends-on?’

‘Oh, here we go,’ Dorian muttered. ‘Can you walk and chew me out at the same time? I want to get you home before nightfall.’

‘That’s rich,’ Dinah scoffed but took note of the way the sky was slowly turning from pink to blue and crossed her arms. The days were slowly turning cooler and she wore only a t-shirt and leggings. At least, that’s what she told herself was to blame for her sudden trembling.

Dorian was already shaking off his jacket. He threw it over her without ceremony and gestured for her to lead the way. Dinah huffed but did so, pulling the jacket tighter around her and following the path she remembered from the car ride over.

They walked in silence before Dorian broke it with a groan. ‘Can you just ask your questions and get it over with?’

‘I’m  _ thinking,’ _ Dinah snapped back.

‘About…?’ Dorian prompted.

Dinah sighed in exasperation. ‘Why’d Moriyama assume you’d want to keep me alive?’

‘You worried I’ll turn on you or something?’

‘No,’ Dinah said immediately, then blinked when she realised she meant it. ‘I just don’t know why he’d think that. Or are you just so lacking in the friend department that I’m the closest you’ve got?’

‘Ha ha,’ Dorian droned. 

Dinah shrugged. ‘Even if you did turn on me and let him kill me, it’s not like I’m important.’

Out of the corner of her eye, Dinah saw Dorian look at her. She kept her eyes on the rocky ground in front of her. ‘Not important to  _ anyone? _ Not even to Nathaniel Wesninski?’

Dinah bit the inside of her cheek to keep from visibly reacting to the name. ‘What are you, jealous?’

‘Mary, I know what he is to you.’ Dorian sighed and Dinah shivered at the sound of his voice saying her name. ‘I was searching for information on him after what Maxwell Malcolm said and got a lot of intel about a guy called Neil Josten. Word must have gotten back to Moriyama that I was asking about him because he came after me pretty soon afterwards. But by then I’d found pictures and made the connection between you.’

‘A few pictures don’t prove shit,’ Dinah interrupted. 

‘His looks would say otherwise.’

Dinah elbowed Dorian in the gut, grabbing him by the collar when he hunched over to her height. ‘Shut up,’ she hissed. ‘Neil doesn’t look anything like— Like  _ him.’  _

Dorian grunted and yanked her hand off of him. ‘I was  _ going  _ to say that he looks like you.’

‘Oh.’ Dinah resumed walking, feeling all too exposed and wanting to keep it from Dorian.

‘And if he’s a Wesninski, it would make sense that you are too, which means you’re Mary Wesninski.’

‘If you’re looking for someone to praise your detective skills, you’re barking up the wrong tree,’ Dinah said. ‘And you still haven’t answered my question. Why’s Moriyama so certain you’ll stay out of his business to keep me alive?’

Dorian winced. ‘You’re not going to like this one.’

Standing in place, Dinah raised her eyebrows at him. ‘Then you’d better get it over with and tell me.’

Heaving a deep sigh, Dorian took a seat on the curb and gestured for Dinah to join him. She did. 

‘When you were younger, did your parents ever tell you about the boy they wanted you to marry?’ When Dinah shook her head, Dorian nodded, as though he’d been expecting this. ‘Well, my engagement to June was rushed, because I’d already had one engagement fall through.’ Dinah’s breath shook. She didn’t like where this was going. ‘The girl was only fourteen and, the night before her brother would be sold to the Moriyamas—’

‘No,’ Dinah breathed.

‘Her mother took her and ran.’ Dorian glanced at her. ‘That’s why Moriyama’s using you as leverage. He thinks I have plans to reclaim you or something equally messed up.’

Dinah swallowed. Her mother hadn’t just been saving Neil, she’d tried to save her as well. Dinah filed those thoughts away for the dead of night when she could dissect them properly. 

‘You doing okay over there?’ Dorian asked, his voice so gentle it made Dinah want to do something violent. 

‘I’ll be fine so long as you  _ don’t  _ try to reclaim me or something equally messed up,’ she said.

‘Mary—’

Dinah stood abruptly. ‘Are you walking me home or what?’ she asked, and stalked off before she could get a response. Dorian trailed behind her the whole way back to her apartment building without saying another word.

— 

Eden’s Twilight happened to have a special guest DJ on the last weekend before dorms reopened, so it was more packed than normal. The club had also invested in booths, which Andrew occupied with Neil while the rest of their party embarrassed themselves on the dance floor. Not that Andrew was complaining.

Aaron’s return from the cheerleader’s house and the end of summer break looming over them had necessitated one last trip to Eden’s before the semester started up. Andrew had gone shopping earlier in the day and left a bag of new clothes on the end of Neil’s side of the bed. While Andrew would never have used Nicky’s adjective of “edible,” he had to admit that Neil looked good. Annoyingly good.

It had been easier to ignore Neil on the drive down—when the road had stolen Andrew’s concentration—but now, alone in a dimly-lit booth, knowing that Neil was just inches away in sinfully tight black jeans, a dark blue button-down, and the black armbands Andrew had bought him months ago, Andrew couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off of him.

The way Neil smirked behind his soda can told Andrew that he’d noticed the attention, but Andrew wasn’t too bothered. Neil had been less of a disaster lately. Ever since Sheena Chesney had signed onto the team, Andrew hadn’t been woken by one of Neil’s nightmares. He noticed Neil was zoning out less and actually taking care of himself. Andrew found himself hoping that Neil was starting to forget about Mack. 

And good riddance, if that was the case. 

The way Andrew saw it, they had dodged a bullet when she skipped town. A girl like that had trouble written all over her, and Andrew had dealt with enough trouble for a lifetime. 

For now, he wanted the good trouble. The kind of trouble that came from Neil giving him a very suggestive side-glance. The kind of trouble that made Andrew feel like he was going to explode; the kind that made him  _ feel.  _

Andrew put his mouth right by Neil’s ear, to be heard over the music and to evoke that little shiver Neil never bothered to suppress. ‘Store room, yes or no?’

Neil leaned a little into Andrew. ‘But we’ll lose the booth,’ he said.

The sliver of a smile playing around Neil’s lips told Andrew he was being had. Unfortunately for Neil, teasing was a game that two could play at. ‘Then right here, yes or no?’

Neil’s eyes went wide. He searched Andrew’s face, gauging how serious he was being, then said “Yes” like it was a challenge. A challenge that Andrew accepted.

Gripping Neil’s chin, Andrew drew him forwards and fit their lips together, marvelling at the way Neil responded with vigor, their mouths moving in synchrony. 

Neil’s hands found their way into Andrew’s hair, tugging slightly as Andrew crushed the fabric of Neil’s new shirt in his fists, using his hold to pull Neil closer. Neil made a deep sound against Andrew’s lips, one of his thumbs tracing the corner of Andrew’s jaw. Andrew opened his mouth to Neil, giving him free reign with the kiss and curious to see what he’d do with it.

‘Oh, I don’t want to see that!’ Aaron yelled over the music. Andrew supposed he would have to wait and see what Neil would do later, in private. Releasing Neil, Andrew raised his eyebrows at Aaron, daring him to say more. Aaron shook his head and downed three shots in one go, as though the liquor would erase the image of two men kissing from his mind.

Andrew leaned back against the booth once Aaron disappeared from whence he’d come and ran his eyes over Neil. He looked thoroughly debauched and Andrew, satisfied with his work, went back to watching the dance floor. 

Neil was fidgety for the rest of the night and, if Andrew made them leave early, that was nobody’s business. 

Back at the house, Neil helped Kevin to drunkenly stumble over to the pull-out couch while Aaron and Andrew got Nicky to bed. Aaron bid Andrew goodnight without making eye-contact but Andrew hardly paid him any mind. As soon as Neil closed the bedroom door behind them, Andrew asked, ‘Yes—?’

‘Yes,’ Neil replied fervently, so Andrew kissed him against the wall. Neil kept his hands by his sides but Andrew wanted them in his hair. He took Neil’s wrists and guided them until Neil’s fingers buried themselves against Andrew’s scalp. They kissed each other in that hard, hot way that usually resulted in at least one of them bleeding and neither of them knowing who was to blame. It was a kind of pain that Andrew liked. 

Andrew reached for the buttons on Neil’s shirt but paused there, waiting for the garbled “Yes” that Neil rasped against his neck. One button was all Andrew could manage with Neil sucking on his pulse-point, but there was no rush. They had all night. 

Almost like a jinx, the moment Andrew had that thought, Aaron’s voice called out. Andrew and Neil broke apart and looked at each other before bursting into action. Neil grabbed the exy racquet in the closet and Andrew withdrew one of his knives. They raced to Aaron’s bedroom, Andrew in front of Neil, where they heard a familiar voice.

‘Didn’t have you pinned as a whistle-blower. So, what? You can break into my house but I can’t return the favour?’

Aaron turned an incredulous look on Andrew. ‘Did you break into this girl’s house?’

‘Mack?’ Neil stepped around Andrew and threw his arms around the intruder. ‘Don’t fucking  _ do  _ that. Your disappearances get exponentially more stressful,’ Neil mumbled, still holding her tightly.

Mack rubbed Neil’s back and sighed. ‘I  _ am _ sorry. I didn’t think all of this would take so long.’

‘All of what?’ Neil asked, drawing back. ‘What have you been doing?’

Aaron sidled up to Andrew, frowning and putting pieces together quicker than Andrew would have liked. ‘Is that—?’

Andrew worked his jaw. ‘The prodigal sister returns yet again,’ he droned. ‘How nice.’

Peering over Neil’s shoulder, Mack met Andrew’s eye. ‘I came to help,’ she said.

‘Don’t need it,’ Andrew said dismissively. 

Mack gave him a look like she was disappointed in him. ‘Oh really? So you already know that someone’s on their way here to kill Neil?’

Neil recoiled like someone had slapped him. ‘Wait, what?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, cliffhanger. I know. I'm so sorry. I'll try and pump out the next chapter quickly but I promise it'll be ACTION-PACKED. There's a [spotify playlist I listen to for Mack/Dinah scenes](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3i85z3Ci1ZsIeVX5Pzj79y?si=IHjs40xGSGezw3lQ1CtHIQ) that I've attached if any of you wanna vibe with me.  
> Leave a kudos if you're liking this fic so far and don't be shy to let me know what you think in the comments!!
> 
> Lots of love, <3


	10. Gunfire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neil did not miss shoot-outs, Andrew did not miss this drama, and Mack did not miss Andrew Minyard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly shorter chapter this time (I'm gonna start trying to keep them under 5k so I can update a bit quicker). This is also the last chapter I post before I'm officially 21!! (God, I'm so freakin old). 
> 
> Hope you all enjoy!!

The second her childhood name left her brother’s lips, Dinah was Mack again. Her heart ached as every worry she’d suppressed in their months apart came crashing down over her. Neil hugged her tightly, and Mack grew conscious of her hitching breaths. 

‘Your disappearances get exponentially more stressful,’ Neil chided her.

Getting her breathing under control, Mack sighed and apologised. ‘I didn’t think all of this would take so long.’

‘All of what?’ Neil asked, releasing her.

Mack mustered up a tired smile. ‘It’s a long story.’

Andrew’s voice over Neil’s shoulder caught Mack’s attention. ‘The prodigal sister returns yet again. How nice.’ His angry tone gave Mack the impression he didn’t think it was nice to see her at all. 

‘I came to help,’ she explained.

‘Don’t need it,’ Andrew shot back.

‘Oh really?’ Mack said, her temper encrusting her words in a regrettable rime of frost. ‘So you already know that someone’s on their way here to kill Neil?’

Her satisfaction at seeing Andrew’s shoulders stiffen was short-lived. 

Neil jerked back from her, blue eyes shuttered off. ‘Wait, what?’

Hiding her face behind a hand, Mack groaned. ‘That wasn’t how that was meant to come out.’

‘Then by all means, explain.’ 

Mack dropped her hand. Neil had never spoken to her like that. Steely. Cold. Detached.

‘Neil?’ Mack reached out for him but he swatted her away. 

‘What’s the plan, Mack?’ Neil asked, teeth gritted and eyes boring into hers. ‘Are we going to run again? Head north and see where we end up? Because, not to be dramatic, but I’d rather let whoever it is kill me now.’

Mack’s mouth fell open. ‘What are you talking about? I said I was here to help you, not take you on the run again.’ The bitter twist of Neil’s mouth wavered and Mack realised what he was really detaching himself from. ‘Hey,’ she whispered, taking one of his hands in hers, ‘I’ll do everything I can to make sure you never have to run again, you hear me? This is your life now and I  _ promise  _ I’ll help you keep it. Whatever it takes.’

The tension in Neil’s expression slowly melted away as he searched her gaze, seeing how much she meant those words. ‘Okay,’ he murmured, standing a little straighter, ‘then what  _ is  _ the plan?’

— 

Mack’s breakdown of the plan took double the time because of Aaron. They had migrated downstairs to the sitting area by the kitchen, next to the pull-out couch that Kevin used as a bed. They had considered waking Kevin but knew that, by the time they had managed to get him conscious, it would probably be too late to explain. As for Nicky, Neil figured his reaction would be much the same, if not more time-consuming, as Aaron’s, so it was best to just leave them. 

The sudden reappearance of his sister was somewhat overshadowed by the fact that she came bearing news that someone was going to try to kill him, but Neil still stared at her while she talked. She seemed different again, more alien. She was concise in her instructions and planning, bordering on strict, yet her voice was still as soft as it had been when she’d read aloud as a child. 

The overlap of memories made Neil’s head hurt.

‘Aaron, no offence, but can you just let her finish explaining?’ Neil said when Aaron interrupted Mack for the fourth time with an idea he’d most likely stolen from a video game.

Aaron flicked him an annoyed look. ‘Let me get this straight. This chick breaks into our house, tells us that someone’s coming to kill the resident problem child, bosses us around, and we’re all okay with this?’

‘I have a question,’ Andrew said. ‘Can we not go somewhere else for the night, let them destroy the house and come back tomorrow?’

‘No, you cannot,’ Mack said, like she was talking to a child. ‘If you leave, they’ll know you knew to expect them and will kill my informant. If my informant dies then I have no way of knowing if they come for Neil again. Any more questions?’ Mack’s smile was a warning and Neil found himself relieved when Aaron and Andrew heeded it. 

‘Great,’ Mack continued. ‘So the key is to make it look like you guys defended yourselves from a home invasion. We can go over the finer details afterwards but…’ Mack reached into the big, black duffel on the floor beside her. From it, she withdrew two automatic rifles. Neil ran a hand down his face. Aaron swore. 

‘These are of the exact same make and caliber as the ones they’ll be using. Take them down with these bullets and forensics will say they shot each other, or—’

‘Or that we disarmed them and took them out with their own weapons in self-defense,’ Neil finished, catching onto the plan quickly. 

‘Exactly,’ Mack said approvingly. ‘I should be able to take most of them out by myself but, just in case, you should take this.’ Mack handed one gun to Neil, who hesitated. ‘You don’t have to fire it at all, not if you don’t want to,’ she said gently. ‘It’s just a precaution.’

Neil blew out a long breath and accepted the gun. It was heavy in his hands, heavier on his conscience. Absently, Neil released the magazine, counted 30 rounds and reloaded the gun with the practiced ease his mother had instilled him with. Andrew’s eyes cataloged his every move. 

‘Either of you ever fired a gun before?’ Mack asked. 

Aaron scrutinised Andrew, whose eyes darted from Neil’s to Kevin’s sleeping form. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘Okay, well what you need to keep in mind is—’ Mack was cut off by the tinny beeping of her phone receiving a text. She yanked it out of her back pocket and glanced at the screen. ‘Never mind, there’s no time. Both of you get somewhere that’s not here.’ Mack rose and grabbed the corner of Kevin’s blanket, tossing it over his head. 

Neil could see Andrew’s protective instincts rebelling against the order and reached out, placing his hand in front of Andrew’s field of vision. ‘Take Aaron to Nicky’s room. I’ll make sure nothing happens to Kevin.’

The glance Andrew cut Neil’s way told him that Andrew found this plan less than satisfactory but it was as Mack had said, they were running out of time. 

Andrew pulled Neil closer by the collar of his shirt, reminding Neil that his top button was still undone. Fixing him with an even gaze, Andrew said, ‘Don’t be a martyr.’ 

Neil nodded once and was released. He watched Andrew follow Aaron into Nicky’s room, Nicky’s soft snores silenced by the closing of the door. 

Wasting no time, Mack grabbed her own gun as well as three clips to reload if needed. ‘Seven shooters. They’ll be coming in through the back.’ She signaled Neil to follow and lead the way to the end of the hallway, near the back door that led out to the garden. 

‘Someone’s familiar with the floor-plan,’ Neil said wryly.

Mack threw a withering look over her shoulder. ‘Judge my habits later. Get into position,’ she said, pointing behind the wall that jutted out just enough to make a space for Neil. 

‘What about you?’ he asked.

Mack smirked in a way that wasn’t at all reassuring. ‘I’ve got it,’ she said and commenced scaling the closet where Nicky kept towels and spare blankets. Once she’d secured a perch—lying on her stomach atop the closet like a sniper, her feet dangling off the end—Neil squeezed himself into the corner Mack had indicated. 

It was only when Neil heard the telling crunch of rocks underfoot that he realised how frayed his nerves were. Each breath shook on its way out and the gun was starting to slip from his clammy hands. Neil wiped his palms on his too-tight black jeans that were good for catching Andrew’s eye and little else. 

Andrew.

_ Andrew will be fine,  _ Neil told himself.  _ Everyone will be fine.  _

These thoughts would be more believable if they weren’t coming from Neil, but he didn’t have time to doubt himself. He peered around the wall just in time to see the doorknob fall out of the hole. He gripped the gun tighter and counted to ten in English, then German, then French—

The footsteps were quick and sticky against the tiles, making little  _ d-d-d-d  _ sounds as more bodies entered the house. For a moment Neil feared they were too quick for Mack to take them all down before they reached the kitchen, but his fears went unrewarded at the first resounding procession of gunfire. 

Neil heard bodies falling onto tiled ground but only just. His ears rung with the echo of gunfire, drowning out the yells and rattling breaths of the dead or dying. Smoke began to cloud his vision and Mack’s cursing sporadically cut in between gunshots. Somebody clad head-to-toe in black stumbled in front of Neil and he unthinkingly—reflexively—brought the gun up to his eye-line and shot them twice in the back of the head. 

Both shots missed and the man turned around. Neil froze. He’d never been able to kill anyone who was facing him, looking him in the eyes, it was different when they were a silhouette to send to the ground. Now it was a living man to send to—most likely—hell.

Neil fired the gun at the man’s legs, sending him sprawling with a strangled shout. The gunfire behind him had stopped.

‘Neil?’ Mack’s voice called. 

Neil kicked the man’s gun across the room where he couldn’t reach it and choked an “I’m fine,” around his constricting throat. 

Mack appeared beside him. ‘Were you hit?’ she asked, frantically patting him down for injuries. 

Coughing, Neil shoved her away. ‘I’m  _ fine,  _ just give me some room.’

‘Okay,’ Mack sighed, backing off and kicking the man Neil had just shot in the back of the head, knocking him out cold. 

Cautiously, Neil stepped out from the corner and scanned his smokey surroundings. He counted the bodies. Five, plus the one he had killed. He frowned. ‘Mack, weren’t there meant to be seven shooters?’

Mack frowned back at him for a moment before her eyes went wide with dread. ‘Look out!’ 

A gunshot sounded from behind him.

— 

‘Look out!’ Mack cried, going for her shuriken even though she knew she was going to be too late. 

The gunshot went off, and the man aiming a gun at her brother sunk to his knees, falling face-first onto the floor. 

Neil was still standing, tensed for a bullet that never came his way. 

Mack was confused for a moment before she recognised Dorian coming in through the door. Neil raised his gun.

‘Don’t shoot,’ Mack sighed, relief coursing through her veins and mingling with the adrenaline. 

Dorian raised his hands and lowered them at the same time Neil lowered the gun. ‘Neil, right?’ he said. ‘You probably don’t remember me.’

‘I remember you,’ Neil said warily, surprising Mack. ‘Dorian Landler.’

Picking her way over the bodies, Mack came to stand beside Neil. ‘I wasn’t aware the two of you had met.’ 

Neil inclined his head. ‘Yeah, we go way back,’ he said, walking away, presumably to check on his friends. 

Switching an overhead light on, Mack crossed her arms and stared up at Dorian. ‘Bit of a risky move, painting yourself as the soul survivor,’ she remarked. 

Dorian shrugged, mirroring her position and crossing his arms. ‘I’m only here if people know I was here, which no one does.’

‘Mm,’ Mack sneered. ‘They think you’re on another hook-up?’

‘Are you jealous?’ Dorian returned.

The taunt snapped Mack back to her senses. ‘Not in the slightest,’ she said tonelessly, making her face blank and taking a step back from Dorian. ‘Thank you for your assistance tonight. I owe you one.’

Dorian pursed his lips unhappily. ‘You don’t owe me anything, Mary.’

Mack shivered. There was something about the way Dorian said her name that made her hate it less. She found her defences wavering every time his mouth caressed the R; the way he said it like it was just a name. “Mary” didn’t feel like her name when anyone else said it. When Stuart said it, it belonged to his sister, when power-hungry bastards like Ichirou Moriyama or her father had said it, it belonged to them. When Dorian said it, though, “Mary” belonged to her.

And Mack couldn’t have that.

‘Then consider this payback for kissing me,’ she said.

Dorian’s eyes danced. ‘Still thinking about that, are you?’

Mack glared back at him. ‘I don’t think my punch was sufficient, so yes, it’s been bugging me.’

‘Maybe not, but it was one hell of an upper-cut,’ Dorian said, running his eyes over Mack’s closed-off body language. He sighed. ‘On a scale of one to ten, how much did finding out we were once engaged ruin my chances with you?’

Suppressing a shudder, Mack shook her head. ‘A scale so finite couldn’t hope to encompass my disgust.’

Dorian clicked his tongue. ‘Well, I best be off then. Which one did you leave alive?’

Mack stiffened. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘I may not have known you very long,’ Dorian said, brushing past Mack and scanning the bodies, ‘but I know you have a bad habit of keeping one man alive for questioni— ha!’ he exclaimed, having found the man Mack had, in actual fact, intended to question.

Disgruntled at being so predictable, Mack narrowed her eyes. ‘He could know something useful.’

‘Then what would you need me for?’ Dorian asked, hoisting the man onto his shoulders. ‘Look, we know your track record with interrogation isn’t great. Let me take care of this. Don’t you have a place nearby?’

Mack moved her mouth soundlessly before groaning and handing over the keys to the safe-house in Camden. ‘I’m gonna need them back,’ she said before placing them in his open palm. ‘I don’t care how much red there is in my ledger, I’m not breaking into my own house.’

Dorian snorted. ‘Duly noted.’

And then he was gone. 

—

Andrew felt every gunshot like beats of his own hammering heart. 

Nicky had jolted awake at the first loud crack and was clinging to Aaron across the room. Andrew had his knives out and at the ready, feeling better having them, even though he was literally the idiot who brought knives to a gunfight. 

Neil was out there, as was Kevin. Both were men that Andrew had sworn to protect, whether his deal with Neil was broken or not, and here Andrew waited, powerless.

The way Neil handled that gun spoke of experience. Years of experience. Neil had divulged few details of his years on the run, seeming to only tell Andrew the mundane details; the things Neil himself wished to remember. He appeared to have left out the crucial detail of his gunmanship, and Andrew didn’t know what to think of that. He had always assumed that Neil had killed people. Neil had practically admitted it during their last run-in with his sister in the way he had written off her past kills as necessary, as some were. Andrew didn’t think less of Neil for his survival. 

The rest of the Foxes often forgot just how warped Neil’s moral compass was, but Andrew was one of the few who acknowledged Neil’s dark side. Maybe he even embraced it. It was nobody’s business if he did. 

The only other person who recognised the danger Neil posed was Aaron, though he saw it as a reason to distrust Neil. That recognition was probably why Aaron had managed to keep composed even after meeting Mack and being confined in a room with guns blazing on the other side of the thin drywall. He remained stoic and calm in the face of all hell breaking loose while Nicky burbled a stream of “holy shit, holy shit, holy shit,” under his breath. 

Andrew clenched his knives tightly, ready to burst through the door at the slightest sign that Neil needed help. 

The gunfire halted for a moment before two quick shots went off, then another three. Andrew was reminded absurdly of waiting for popcorn to cook. He heard Mack’s voice but couldn’t make out Neil’s reply, taking solace in the fact that Neil was speaking at all.

A minute passed and Nicky was slowly calming down. ‘Where are Kevin and Neil?’ he asked Aaron quietly.

‘Neil’s got a gun, they’ll be fine,’ Aaron murmured back.

Tired of waiting, Andrew tossed one of his knives at Aaron’s feet and opened the door. ‘Andrew—’ Aaron hissed but Andrew was now face-to-face with a shell-shocked Neil. He had no idea who moved towards whom but, somehow, their foreheads ended up pressed together, Andrew’s hand on the back of Neil’s neck, Neil’s hands fisted in Andrew’s shirt. 

‘Are you okay?’ Neil whispered.

Andrew pushed down a wave of exasperation. ‘I wasn’t the one caught in the crossfire.’

Neil made a noncommittal sound and leaned back. ‘I shot someone. He’s not dead, but—’

‘You did what you had to,’ Andrew said firmly.

While Neil didn’t look entirely convinced, his eyes seemed less hollow. 

Nicky stood on shaky legs. ‘Neil, man. What the fuck is going on? Where’s Kevin?’

Neil scoffed. ‘See for yourself.’ He stepped back and they followed him out to the area Kevin used as a bedroom. The fucker was still snoring.

‘Kevin, you dumb fucking idiot motherfucker,’ Nicky practically wept with joy, diving on top of him. 

Kevin woke with a start. ‘Nicky, get the fuck off me,’ he grumbled, kneeing Nicky in the ribs.

When Nicky went to snap a retort, Neil shushed them. Andrew heard the voices a moment later, though he kept his eyes on Neil. One voice was clearly Mack, but the other was deeper. A man’s voice. 

‘You don’t owe me anything, Mary.’

Neil frowned at the name. 

‘Then consider this payback for kissing me.’

Neil’s frown deepened considerably.

The two voices bickered back and forth, exchanging unimportant information that Andrew didn’t bother to pay attention to—though the mention of an engagement didn’t escape his notice—until the man presumably left. Mack came to find them not long after.

‘All good?’ she asked Neil.

Neil shrugged. ‘Fifty fingers, fifty toes.’

It was a saying Andrew had never heard from Neil. He began to wonder, not for the first time, just how many facets the man had. These thoughts were interrupted by Nicky peeking over the back of the couch.

‘Hello. Who’s this, then?’

Curious, Kevin sat up, then glared once he recognised Mack. ‘Oh, it’s  _ you,’  _ he said disdainfully, falling back against his fancy bamboo-pillow with a huff. Andrew felt strangely vindicated.

‘I’m, uh—’ Mack hesitated, glancing at Neil.

Neil rubbed his eye. ‘My sister,’ he said. ‘She’s my sister.’

Nicky’s jaw dropped. ‘No. Fucking. Way.’ Scrambling out from the sheets, stepping on a complaining Kevin in the process, Nicky tumbled onto the floor and looked closely at Mack’s features. ‘I see it,’ he said in amazement. Mack averted her gaze with a timidity that Andrew didn’t buy for a moment.

‘I don’t,’ Andrew felt the need to pitch in. He turned to Neil. ‘When is she leaving?’

Instead of telling Andrew to play nice, like Andrew expected him to, Neil simply turned a questioning glance at Mack. ‘Do you have other “important business” to rush off to?’ he asked and Andrew realised with a flash of satisfaction that Neil was still mad at her.

‘Neil—’ 

‘By all means,’ Neil went on, walking away, ‘don’t let me keep you.’

‘Neil!’ Mack called as Neil took the stairs two at a time like he usually did, in a hurry to get away from her.

When Mack went to follow, Andrew blocked her way. Leveling her with an even look, and keeping his voice low enough to now be overheard, he said, ‘It’s funny, isn’t it? When it was just the two of you you had no choice but to put up with each other. Now Neil has a life without you, and you keep barging into it, then you leave and Neil spends weeks reassembling the pieces.’ Andrew gestured expansively with his hands, enjoying the glower Mack was treating him to. ‘And here you are again. Around and around the Mary-Go-Round we go.’

‘Watch it, Minyard,’ Mack spat. ‘I’d hate to have to hand your arse to you again.’

‘You don’t scare me, little girl,’ Andrew replied, bored. ‘I’m only painting a picture for you. You can interpret it however you like.’ Then Andrew turned on his heel and followed Neil upstairs to their bedroom. ‘I trust the rest of you can handle the pigs?’ he called down once he reached the second storey, and caught the tell-tale blue and red flashes through the front window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to leave it on angst but holy shit there's so much good sibling content in the next chapter, I can't wait to finish it and share it with you all!!
> 
> Don't be shy to leave a comment or kudos if you're enjoying the fic so far!! Every comment makes my whole day <3


	11. Détente

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Josten siblings get their communication on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a BITCH to edit because everything kept feeling ooc BUT I think I'm happy with it now?? Hope you guys are too!! Enjoy :)

The night’s events left Mack needing something stronger than tea. A coffee shop near Nicky Hemmick’s house not only served to satiate her craving, but also as a hideout. Even if Mack hadn’t been an unregistered member of society, she would sooner die than talk to the coppas. 

She’d already called Stuart and knew he was pulling various Moriyama-threaded strings to get the whole mess with the shootout handled. As far as the Feds were concerned, the boys had been defending themselves against a home invasion. Mack didn’t give law enforcement enough credit to consider that they would organise any follow-up protection for Neil. Not that she trusted anyone to do the job properly, leaving her with one option.

‘The items you requested, m’lady,’ Dorian said, placing a small packet of cards and papers on the table and sitting opposite her.

Mack shook the various fake paperwork—an assortment of fake ID’s and paperwork containing profiles of everyone in Neil’s life—onto the table for inspection. She picked up a very convincing driver’s license, the photo a flipped version of the one on Dinah Hatford’s.

**Name: MACKENZIE JOSTEN**

**Gender: F**

**d.o.b: 08-14-1983**

Mackenzie was fitting, she thought, a believable leap from Mack, though the date of birth made her eyebrows rise. ‘You put my real birthday on here?’ she asked Dorian incredulously.

‘Should I not have?’

Rolling her eyes, Mack slipped the documents into the front pocket of her duffel. ‘Whatever. How’d the questioning go?’

Dorian shook his head. ‘Couldn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know. Sorry.’

Mack swatted his apology aside, annoyed. ‘Doesn’t matter. What’s the deal, then? Is she sending a backup team to finish the job or what?’

‘She won’t,’ Dorian said, mirroring Mack’s snappy tone. ‘She went against Tristan’s orders to send that group out and then none of them came back alive? I’d venture he’s furious.’

‘How furious?’

Dorian pulled a face and changed the subject. ‘How long are you on protection detail?’

‘Until the bitch is dead,’ Mack said firmly. ‘I can do everything I need to from here while keeping an eye on Neil.’

‘Poor kid.’ Dorian’s laugh was all bitterness. ‘Even now he’s still got people trying to take a shot at him.’

The comment sat strangely alongside her perception of Dorian, but before she could consider just how well he knew her brother, his phone rang. He frowned at the number. ‘I have to take this.’

Mack gestured for him to answer and got up to leave, feeling his eyes on her back as she did. His gaze erased whatever guilt she might have fostered for leaving him to handle her check.

Leaning against her bike outside, Mack dialed Neil’s cell. He answered on the third ring. ‘Hello?’

‘Neil? It’s me. I—’ Dial tone. 

Frowning, Mack tried again. This time the phone went straight to voicemail. She hung up with a tired sigh. Minyard had been half-right the night before; Neil had never shut her out to this extent and the strength of his rage was surprising. She hadn’t been aware her brother possessed a shoulder so cold. 

Reaching into the duffel, Mack withdrew the printed profiles Dorian had assembled for her. In her hands were the identities, phone numbers, and past felonies of every member of the PSU Foxes. She scanned the numbers. Andrew Minyard was out. So was Kevin. That left Nicholas “Nicky” Hemmick and Aaron Minyard.

Of the two, Nicky had seemed the most likely to be of help to her, so she dialled his number. 

‘’Sup?’

Mack pursed her lips. She thought a man in his mid-twenties ought to have a more sophisticated way of answering the phone.

‘Nicky Hemmick? This is Mack, we met last night.’

Nicky made a bright sound of recognition. ‘Oh yeah! “Met” sure is one helluva way to put it. What can I do you for?’

‘Are the coppas gone?’ Mack asked. ‘I need to talk to Neil but he’s not answering my calls.’

Unexpectedly, Nicky laughed. ‘I was just telling him, Coach didn’t get him that fancy phone just so he could forget to charge it.’

She couldn’t make out Neil’s quiet reply.

‘Use Andr— oh.’ Nicky paused to laugh again. ‘Andrew, upgrade your damn phone so Neil can use your charger.’

‘Hello?’ Mack complained. ‘Can I talk to my brother now, please?’

‘Sure thing, Macky, I’ll just hand you over… wait, how did you get this numbe—?’

‘Mack?’ Neil’s voice came over the speaker.

‘Hey.’ Mack watched Dorian come out of the coffee shop, his face grudgingly amused. ‘Is everything okay over there?’ she asked, wiggling her fingers at Dorian in a mocking wave as he got into his car. He shook his head at her from behind the wheel—too fondly—and she averted her eyes.

Neil made a noncommittal noise. ‘Insurance is going to cover the damage and Coach is making us stay at Abby’s until the dorms open up next weekend.’

‘Abby…’ Mack paused, holding the phone to her shoulder with her cheek as she flicked through the profiles, ‘Abigail Marie Winfield? Team nurse? Has a shoplifting charge from 1980?’

‘I don’t want to know,’ Neil muttered. ‘But yes. Do you think you could come here and explain what’s happening?’

‘To you or to everyone?’ Mack asked warily, already settling herself on the bike.

‘They deserve to know what’s going on,’ Neil said, self-assured as usual. ‘I’m guessing I don’t need to text you an address.’

Despite herself, Mack smiled slightly. ‘You know me so well. I’m on my way.’

—

Neil was helping Abby make a bed upstairs when he heard the telltale rumble of Mack’s motorcycle in the driveway. He met Abby’s eye and she gave him an encouraging smile. She had taken Neil’s explanation with fewer expletives than Wymack, but Neil knew that was just the man’s way of dealing with stressful situations.

From the top of the stairs, Neil could see Wymack standing, arms crossed, in front of Mack while she leaned against the corridor. ‘So, you’re the sister.’

‘I guess you can call me Mackenzie Josten.’

‘But that’s not your real name,’ Wymack said as Neil reached the bottom of the stairs.

Mack raised her eyebrows. ‘That’s not what my recently-procured driver’s license tells me.’

Flicking a quick look over his shoulder at Neil, Wymack remarked, ‘You’re not exactly the most convincing liar.’ Neil scratched the back of his neck. He didn’t like what Wymack was implying.

‘Neil trusts you,’ Mack said, ‘I figured I’d save myself the trouble of insulting your intelligence.’

‘Oh, David, let the girl inside,’ Abby said, stepping around Neil and motioning for Mack to follow her to the kitchen. ‘I’m Abby. Are you hungry?’

Mack shook her head, a little alarmed. ‘No, no. I’m fine.’

Neil caught the jaded look Wymack and Abby exchanged and left to round up the rest of their party. 

This time around, Mack was able to get through her explanation quickly, though Neil noticed her leaving out a few details and resolved to ask her about them later. In truth, the Mack she had turned into the night before was unrecognisable from the one he thought he knew; from the one he was watching now. Mack had been a force to be reckoned with once she had that gun in her hands. She was calm in the face of death and violence. Now, she stood awkwardly in front of their procession, explaining things in simple terms and coming across deceptively non-threatening; an innocent girl caught in the crossfire of something bigger than herself. 

‘I have a contact on the inside of this gang who can get me intel if she tries to make another move, but for now all should be quiet. Lola blames both of us for her arrest, amongst other things, and she has some powerful friends. Basically, she’s going to come at Neil again but in the meantime—’

The nagging question remained: Which Mack was the real one? Neil knew Andrew had seen the changes in her behaviour, and that the inconsistencies served as primary grounds for his scepticism, but Neil wanted to figure out for himself whether trusting her was a wise idea. 

Once Mack had concluded her story about Lola, and Lola’s foiled attempt to have Neil assassinated—leaving everyone present a few shades paler—Neil turned to Andrew beside him. ‘Do you need the car?’ he asked in a low voice.

Andrew stared at him for a long moment before shaking his head slightly. Neil went to walk away when Andrew caught his sleeve. ‘She’s not worth pushing yourself too far,’ he said, his gaze intense.

Though Andrew was prone to speaking in riddles, Neil thought he understood this one. ‘Then I won’t push too far.’

Nodding and releasing him, Andrew made his way to the living room. Neil caught Mack’s eye. ‘Can we talk?’

Her eyes darted around the room. ‘Now?’

Neil smiled humourlessly, too aware of the others’ attention on them. ‘Up for a drive?’

— 

The drive was silent at first. Neil had no idea where he was driving to, just that he was behind the wheel with an obscene amount of horsepower under his foot. Mack sat fidgeting in the passenger seat beside him and Neil was suddenly achingly aware that this was the first time the two of them had been in a car together in three years. Mack’s bike hadn’t allowed for conversation the way the quiet cabin did, but it was as though their mother’s memory was dozing in the back seat. Mack came to her senses before Neil did, but even when she spoke, she kept her voice down. 

‘Can I ask something?’

Neil nodded.

‘How exactly do you know Dorian Landler?’

 _That’s the question you’re going with?_ Neil wanted to ask, but refrained ‘He used to come by the house when we were kids,’ he said instead. ‘His dad would go and do business with ours but Dorian used to stay behind with me. He asked about you a lot, which makes sense, I guess.’

‘How does it make sense?’ 

Neil didn’t risk looking at her. ‘I figure he was checking out the merchandise before making the purchase.’

Mack inhaled sharply. ‘How long have you been sitting on that one?’ she asked, a scowl in her voice.

‘Depends,’ Neil retorted, ‘did you know about the deal with the Moriyamas?’

Mack’s silence was all the answer Neil needed. His hands tightened on the wheel. ‘I always thought Mom was the one who kept secrets. Not us.’ Neil made a random turn and attempted to swallow some of his anger. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘Why didn’t you tell me about Dorian?’ Mack returned.

Neil shook his head. ‘I didn’t tell you because I didn’t know. Not until last night when I overheard you talking and put the pieces together. Your turn.’

Mack digested that and let out a long sigh. ‘I wanted to,’ she whispered. ‘Mum said your fear was a distraction we couldn’t afford, and she didn’t listen when I told her to give you more credit than that. You know how she got near the end.’

Neil did indeed know how their mother got near the end. 

_‘Mom, it’s been three days. I think it’s safe to make a grocery stop.’_

_‘Oh, and you’re the authority here?’_

_‘That’s not— mmph.’_

_‘Mom! Don’t hit him!’_

_‘I already said it’s too dangerous, Alex. We’re all hungry, but you’re just going to have to wait until it’s safer.’_

The memory of nights spent in the passenger seat of a car—curled around his grumbling stomach, face stinging from his mother’s sharp slap—wouldn’t soon fade.

‘Fine,’ Neil said, blinking to dispel the sound of his mother’s voice. ‘What about before she was like that? You could have told me the day we left and you chose not to.’

‘You’re right.’ Mack sighed again and Neil saw her run a hand through her hair out the corner of his eye. ‘Truthfully? Exy made you happy,’ she said. ‘Your entire face still lights up whenever you talk about it, just as much as it did when you were a kid. I didn’t want to take that away from you; to make you fear the thing you loved.’ 

Neil glanced at her but Mack was staring at the ocean out the window. With a jolt, Neil realised he had taken them to a beach. 

‘I figured it was a phase you’d grow out of,’ Mack continued. ‘I thought I could wait to tell you about the Moriyama deal until you found something new to love.’ Mack turned to face Neil and he saw that she was smiling wryly. ‘And then you never did.’

It was too much. Neil pulled up to a parking spot, Andrew’s words in his ear: _‘She’s not worth pushing yourself too far.’_ Neil hadn’t been expecting this, though. The thought of how much Mack had sacrificed because Exy made him _happy_ was overwhelming. He considered the ease with which he’d seen her kill, the way she’d taken Andrew to the ground last spring, her calm consideration when it came to cutting down anyone in her way, and his chest tightened. 

‘You didn’t want me to fear something I loved?’ Neil asked, strained and unable to meet her eye. ‘Then you shouldn’t have turned yourself into our parents.’

Neil stayed just long enough to see the blood drain from his sister’s face then grabbed a pack of cigarettes from the driver’s-side door and got out of the car. The sea air was cool and hit him like a wall of regret but he didn’t stumble, making his way to the expanse of boulders that ran along the coastline. He picked his way across them, sticking one cigarette between his lips and fumbling through the box for the lighter. He found a perch on the flat side of a boulder, far enough from the sidewalk that they wouldn’t be overheard when Mack inevitably joined him.

Of course Neil didn’t mean what he’d said. Mack wasn’t their parents—yet—and Neil wanted to keep it that way. 

He lit the cigarette, inhaling enough to keep it alight, then held it near his face. The smell of smoke mingled with the salty air and, paired with the sound of the waves lapping at the shore, it was enough to drive him over the edge, but Neil didn’t let it. Instead of thinking about his mother’s burning corpse, he thought of Andrew, and cigarettes on the roof, and the sense of safety the Foxes provided him with; everything Mack didn’t have.

Like his thoughts had summoned her, Mack took a seat on a ledge opposite him. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, though Neil didn’t know if that was to keep her anger in or his hurtful words out. 

‘I knew that Minyard was a bad influence,’ she said.

Neil’s head whipped up. Thoughts ranging from his and Andrew’s shared bed to their concern for each other the previous night raced through his mind before he realised Mack was probably talking about the cigarette. She wrinkled her nose up at it until Neil stubbed the butt out on the rock, pocketing the rest for later. 

‘I didn’t mean what I said,’ Neil muttered in lieu of an apology.

Mack scraped her shoe over a pebble. ‘You meant something by it, though.’

There was no point denying it. ‘I did.’

Mack mulled that over for a moment before quietly asking, ‘Are you really afraid of me?’

Neil shook his head. ‘I think I’m afraid _for_ you. All this killing… it has to be taking a toll.’ 

‘So what if it is?’ Mack asked, jaw jutted defiantly. ‘That’s not exactly your concern, is it?’

‘Actually, I’d say my sister turning herself into a killer _is_ my concern.’

‘Neil.’ Mack half-laughed. ‘I didn’t turn myself into this, I was born this. My life has been about killing since the day two murderers brought their baby girl home. All I’m doing is honing the abilities that have always been there, and using them for good.’

‘What “good”?’ Neil demanded. ‘Killing Lola? Why can’t you just let her get what’s coming to her?’

‘ _Protecting you_ is a pretty good reason for what I do,’ Mack snapped. Her grey eyes shone and she pitted them against the identical hues of the overcast horizon. ‘You couldn’t dream of the life I’ve lived since Seattle. How hard I’ve worked, the shit I had to endure the night we got separated, I—’ Mack broke off, sounding near tears.

Neil took a shaky breath. _‘She’s not worth pushing yourself too far.’_ He picked up a loose rock and tossed it high in the sky, watching it careen far away from him along with Andrew’s advice. 

‘The night we got separated is my hell,’ Neil said quietly, feeling Mack’s full attention shift to him. ‘Or did you forget that I watched Mom die that night?’

‘Neil—’

‘I buried her on a beach, you know,’ Neil continued, blazing past her interruption. ‘Somewhere on the California coast, in an unmarked grave we’ll never be able to find again. I don’t think I’ll ever forget that night. There was so much blood that once it dried she stuck to the seat and I couldn’t— The ripping sounds made me sick and, even then, I knew I couldn’t leave any DNA on the sand. I ran to the water and back so many times, Mack.’ Neil paused to take a deep, shuddering breath. ‘I’m only just beginning to realise how fucked up that was; that I set the car on fire with her inside it and burned my hands picking through the ashes for her bones.’ 

‘You did what you had to do,’ Mack said softly. 

‘Maybe,’ Neil allowed, ‘but you don’t have to kill Lola. You don’t have to be a killer.’

Mack shook her head at him, smiling sadly. ‘But I do need her dead, and I need to be there when it happens.’

A note of hysteria entered Neil’s tone when he asked, ‘ _Why?_ ’ He scanned her face in frustration, searching for answers he no longer knew how to recognise in her features. ‘Because of our childhoods? Because of this?’ Neil held out his arms demonstratively. Mack didn’t flinch from the plainly visible scars, though she eyed them with caution. ‘Tell me why, Mack.’

Her smile wobbled but stayed in place as Mack pulled her hair back from her neck and tilted her head, exposing a row of puckered scars that ran down it. 

‘What’s that?’ he asked.

‘Can’t you read?’ 

Neil looked closer and felt the wind rush out of him. It was a word. The letters had bled together like wet ink on a page, but the “P” at the start was unmistakable, as was the “cess” at the end. P—cess. Princess. The name Lola had taunted Mack with for as long as Neil could remember.

Neil touched the scar on his cheek that had once been a “4” and suddenly knew—a little too intimately—why his sister needed Lola Malcolm dead.

— 

Neil’s voice was hoarse. ‘What the hell happened to you in Seattle?’ 

Mack sighed and moved her hair back to where it always stayed, against the left side of her neck, cascading over her side. An embarrassing tear slipped down her cheek and she wiped it away angrily. She’d known this détente was coming, but that didn’t mean she relished the necessity of the conversation. 

‘I don’t remember a lot of it,’ Mack admitted once she’d found her voice. ‘I blacked out somewhere after Mum got away and woke up in the trunk. This—’ Mack gestured airily to her neck. ‘—happened while I was out.’

Neil’s eyes looked haunted, boring into her neck like he could see the brand through her hair. ‘I sometimes wish I could have been the one to take Riko out,’ he said slowly. ‘But I’m satisfied with knowing that he’s gone. Lola can be taken out by anyone, why does it have to be you?’

Mack took a deep breath. ‘I think, if you’re going to understand why, you need to hear about Baltimore from my perspective.’

Fixing his gaze on the clouds, Neil brought one knee up and wrapped his arms around it. It made him look strangely child-like and Mack’s throat tightened. ‘I still don’t remember seeing you there.’

‘That’s because I never got out of the car.’

There it was. The source of Mack’s greatest shame, out in the open. The ocean filled the silence, the endless _shh, shh, shh,_ dissuading Mack from continuing. Like the world was telling her: “Keep your secrets. He’ll never forgive you otherwise.”

Well, fuck the world.

‘It didn’t feel real until I saw the house, and then I froze. I couldn’t go in. I couldn’t go _back_ there. I trusted Stuart to kill Wesn— _him,_ and all it got me was guilt, a brother in FBI custody, and inadequate closure.’ Mack breathed. A fire had kindled beneath her sternum and burned in defiance of the chilly air around them.

Neil cleared his throat. ‘If it had been me—’

‘But it wasn’t you, was it?’ Mack cut him off, quick-fire, like the bullets she’d killed so many men with the night before. If Neil thought she was a monster, she might as well sell it. ‘We’ll never know what you would have done, whether you would have made the same choices, because you were already inside getting—’ Mack’s words hitched on a sob. ‘—and I wasn’t there.’ 

Neil’s eyes were heavy on her. ‘No, you were outside, safe.’ 

_Here it comes,_ Mack thought, squeezing her eyes shut tight. _This is where he starts hating you and never stops._

‘And I’m glad for it.’

Mack’s eyes snapped back open. A tension she hadn’t noticed in her gut released. ‘You’re what?’

‘I’m not thrilled about what happened to me that night,’ Neil amended. ‘But I’m glad it didn’t happen to you.’

Frowning, Mack considered these words. ‘But I was supposed to be protecting you.’

‘Then you’re an idiot.’

Mack balked, indignant. ‘Pardon me?’

Neil’s smile was icy. He buried it against his shoulder. ‘If you think it was supposed to be _you_ protecting _me,_ you’re wrong.’

‘But—’

‘ _We_ were supposed to be protecting _each other.’_

The argument died on Mack’s lips. Neil looked at her earnestly, any traces of the cold smile now gone from his face. 

‘God, Mack,’ he rasped. ‘You can’t keep blaming yourself for shit that happens to me. I know Mom told you those things about my scars being your fault, but you have to know they were lies. Mom told us whatever she had to to keep us alive, whether that meant telling me that you were dead or telling you that I was your responsibility.’

‘You are my responsibility!’ Mack yelled.

‘Then that makes you mine!’ Neil shot back. ‘And fuck you for thinking any different!’

Mack and Neil stared each other down for a long moment before all the rage bled out of Mack. She leaned back and expelled a long, weary breath to the skies. ‘So much for a détente,’ she muttered.

‘What?’

‘Never mind.’ 

Mack’s mind was reeling. Neil wasn’t mad at her. He was just glad she was safe. Mack couldn’t recall her brother ever being selfless to this degree. Had she forgotten this crucial aspect of his character or was this a recent development? Mack didn’t know, but she frowned at Neil while she mulled it over. 

Neil shifted under her watch. ‘Quit looking at me like that.’

‘Like what?’ Mack asked, bemused.

‘That’s your reading-face,’ Neil said shrewdly, gesturing with his finger. ‘I’m not a book.’

Mack laughed. ‘But your life would make for one hell of a narrative.’

Rolling his eyes, Neil smiled hesitantly back. ‘This past year alone could be its own trilogy.’ Mack smirked at him. They hadn’t even begun to repair the vast chasm that had been torn between them, but she thought that perhaps they were on their way to starting.

— 

‘She’s different to what I expected,’ Nicky said.

He stood at the front of the room, peeking through the curtains, presumably watching Neil and his sister walk to the Maserati. Aaron flopped onto the couch next to Andrew with a huff. ‘What do you mean?’ he asked.

Nicky shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I thought she’d be all flighty around Coach. You remember how Neil was at first.’

Privately, Andrew thought that the girl’s façade had been rather transparent. The way she’d made her already small frame smaller, her voice quieter. He’d seen the wariness in her eyes, the hunch in her posture. How could Nicky be so blind?

‘She’s kind of pretty too,’ Nicky added, perching on the arm of the couch nearest Aaron.

From the recliner Kevin shook his head, looking mildly horrified. Aaron made a vaguely disgusted sound that Andrew guessed was for the cheerleader’s sake.

‘Aw, come on,’ Nicky argued. ‘Admit it. She’s pretty.’

‘Sure, we’ll let the gay one decide whether or not Josten’s _sister_ is pretty,’ Aaron sneered. Andrew snatched the remote just as Aaron reached for it and ignored his brother’s frustrated sigh. For that comment, Andrew decided to let Aaron suffer through cartoons.

Nicky spluttered. ‘You can’t reverse-uno-card my own gayness on me! Besides, I don’t mean she’s pretty like _Neil.’_

Andrew felt his jaw tighten as Nicky peered at him around Aaron.

‘I mean—don’t get me wrong, Andrew—Neil’s cute-pretty, but Mack’s like—’ Nicky raised his arms and mimed a solemn bow. ‘— _pretty_ , ya know?’

Kevin threw a pillow at him. ‘You’re just saying that because you’re afraid of her.’

‘I am not!’ Nicky said, ducking but still taking the full brunt of Abby’s decorative pillow to the face. ‘Did she shoot up a bunch of bad guys in our house? Maybe. Does that make me afraid of her? Absolutely not. She did it to protect Neil, so I don’t see any reason she would turn on _us_. We love Neil.’

‘You shouldn’t be so quick to trust her,’ Andrew said, interrupting whatever unsavoury thing Aaron was about to say. 

‘Why do you say that, Andrew?’

Andrew swivelled in his seat to meet Wymack’s dark gaze. He should have known the older man would be listening in, he was just as bad as the rest of them with gossip. Yet, maybe he’d also seen the way Mack didn’t flinch from him the way Neil had, long ago. That would be enough to pique anyone’s interest, but Andrew didn’t have to indulge his curiosities. 

Standing abruptly, Andrew crossed the room. When he reached the bottom of the staircase, he stopped. Wymack was still watching him intently. In a low voice, Andrew said, ‘Let’s just say that this particular rabbit should have stayed down her hole.’

With that, Andrew went upstairs to nap, blatantly ignoring Kevin’s order of “don’t fuck up your sleeping schedule.”

He didn’t know how much time had passed before he was woken by the opening of a door. He jolted awake to see Neil looking guilty with his hand on the doorknob.

‘I didn’t know you were sleeping,’ he said softly. Andrew rubbed a hand over his face, hiding the naked alarm Neil’s entrance had put there, and gestured for Neil to shut the door behind him. 

‘I can go back downstairs,’ Neil offered.

Andrew glared at him and was surprised by Neil’s responding grin. The little shit understood that Andrew had to know whatever had transpired between him and his sister; to know if she was going to be more of a problem than she already was. However, judging from Neil’s good mood, Andrew would have to resign himself to the fact that she was about to become a fixture in Neil’s life—however temporary.

Pulling the door closed, Neil let out a long sigh and sat on the edge of the bed. Through all the madness, Andrew had nearly forgotten that Neil hadn’t slept the night before either. 

Neil’s back was to him, so Andrew had to ask aloud: ‘What happened?’

Tired, but smiling, Neil glanced at Andrew over his shoulder. ‘A lot. We don’t have to talk about it, though.’

Andrew blinked once, keeping the rest of his face carefully blank.

‘What?’ Neil asked, unusually defensive. ‘It’s not like we talk about your family.’

‘You already know my family,’ Andrew pointed out. 

‘We don’t talk about the family I _don’t_ know.’

‘We don’t talk about those people because it gives me murderous urges.’

Neil cocked an eyebrow. ‘And talking about my sister doesn’t?’

Staring Neil down, Andrew decided to wait him out. Clearly something had happened and he knew Neil would want to talk about it eventually—

‘She’s scared.’

Well, that didn’t take long at all. 

Neil hunched over, bracing his arms on his knees before continuing. ‘She couldn’t be there when our father died and she needs closure. She thinks she’ll get it by killing Lola.’

Andrew pondered this for a moment then snorted. ‘Scared of losing a few hours of beauty sleep to a bad dream?’ he said derisively. When Neil kept quiet, Andrew went on. ‘Killing out of cowardice, typical.’

‘Andrew,’ Neil said quietly. ‘Don’t.’

Feeling the beginnings of anger stirring, Andrew went to the window. He didn’t usually smoke in Abby’s house—she didn’t like it and he had no reason to antagonise her—but he wanted a cigarette. For that very reason, he didn’t allow himself one. He wasn’t a junkie. 

‘You know this is Nicky and his parents all over again, don’t you?’ Andrew said, his anger morphing into something toxic; something Bee had called: “self-destruction.” ‘It’s disappointing. I thought you were smarter.’

Of course, self-destruction had only been an option for Andrew when no one knew how to disarm him. He’d unwittingly given Neil that knowledge at some point in the last year, and Neil knew how to use it now. ‘I figured if anyone could understand wanting revenge, it’d be you.’

‘I have no interest in revenge,’ Andrew corrected him. ‘I make promises and I keep them.’ _Or I used to,_ Andrew thought snidely, _until your fucking sister had to go and kill a man I had sworn to send to hell myself._

‘But you do know what it’s like to not be able to sleep at night until someone’s dead.’ 

Neil’s words were a well placed blow. In fact, this whole conversation was less talking and more of a sparring match. Andrew did know what it was like to need someone gone. He’d never said it out loud but, in spite of everything that happened with Aaron, Andrew was relieved to know that Drake’s carcass was somewhere under the earth being feasted on by worms. It was a thought that cleared his head when his body reacted defensively on instinct upon waking. 

‘People don’t deserve infinite chances just because they’re blood,’ Andrew stated.

‘I know.’ 

Andrew turned to find Neil approaching him slowly. Andrew didn’t tell him to stop but placed a hand on Neil’s chest when he got close enough. Neil stopped there, searching Andrew’s gaze. 

‘I’m not giving her infinite chances. I just want to give her one. She deserves a shot at a life outside the one she’s cornered herself into. She just doesn’t realise it yet.’ Neil reached a hand out and touched Andrew’s face, so light he shivered.

Andrew wrapped his fingers around Neil’s wrist. The touch was tolerable for now, but he didn’t want Neil’s hand wandering. In a quiet voice, Andrew said, ‘If this isn’t a repeat of the Hemmick Family catastrophe, answer me this: What have you told her about us?’

The skin around Neil’s eyes tightened, and Andrew had his answer. 

‘So you admit we’re an “us” now?’ Neil teased.

Andrew glared at him. He’d walked right into that one, but it was low of Neil to point it out. ‘Answer the question.’

Neil sighed. ‘I haven’t told her anything yet. I have no idea how she’d take it.’ He swallowed. ‘I also didn’t know if you wanted me to say anything, but I guess you do?’

‘I don’t care what you tell her,’ Andrew said automatically. It wasn’t precisely a lie. He couldn’t give a fuck what Mack Josten had to say about him and Neil, but he couldn’t watch Neil put his faith in her only to be met with disappointment. ‘Just think about it,’ Andrew said, squeezing Neil’s wrist once before letting go.

‘Where are you going?’ Neil asked, bottom lip puckered in an _almost_ pout. He looked ridiculous. Andrew ached to touch his thumb to that lip, but knew Neil needed sleep.

He was also reminded of a conversation he’d been meaning to have with Mack _enzie_ for a long time. ‘Sleep,’ he ordered. 

Neil, of course, saw through him. He frowned. ‘Don’t let it come to blows this time?’

Andrew gave a noncommittal shrug and left without another word. 

Downstairs, Nicky was teaching Mack how to work the playstation controller.

‘Use X to punch and the O to move forwards, and the toggle—’ He broke off, startled. ‘How are you so good at this?’

Mack’s reply sounded confused. ‘You just explained it?’

‘Yeah, but like… Oh, hey, Andrew. Has Neil gone to his room?’ 

Andrew wondered at his cousin’s specification of Neil going to _his_ room when he would normally revel in reminding Andrew and Neil that they shared, but there were more important things to consider. Such as Nicky getting friendly with exactly the wrong person. He was sitting too close to Mack on the couch. Aaron was on the floor on his laptop, ignoring them all, and Kevin nowhere to be seen. At least they knew to keep their distance from her. 

Grey eyes met his and Andrew scowled, he turned and gestured for Mack to follow. He knew she had complied when the TV announced: “YOU DIED. GAME OVER.” Walking past Kevin, Wymack, and Abby in the kitchen, Andrew led her to the front door and stepped outside. He reached into his pocket and shook the pack of cigarettes there, considering.

‘Smoking’s a filthy habit,’ Mack said from behind him. Andrew turned nonchalantly. He hadn’t forgotten her distaste for smoke, and it intrigued him, given that it was a comfort to Neil. As though privy to his thoughts, she said, ‘I take it Neil’s sudden affinity for it was your doing?’

Andrew cocked an eyebrow and made up his mind, putting a cigarette between his lips. He took his time lighting it, savouring her grimace as he blew the smoke in her direction. ‘Neil came by this particular habit on his own,’ he said matter-of-factly. ‘Long before he became a Fox.’

This made Mack frown, momentarily distracting her before her face cleared, turning almost sad. Andrew had to look away before he could consider how human she looked while worrying.

‘If your presence is going to be a more frequent thorn in my side, then you need to be made aware of how this is going to go,’ Andrew started.

Mack scoffed incredulously, leaning back against the wall and crossing her arms. ‘Why the fuck should I listen to you?’ she asked. 

‘Because you owe me,’ Andrew said.

She narrowed her eyes. ‘How do you figure?’

‘Proust,’ Andrew said, his insides twisting violently in reaction to the name. ‘See, I wanted to take care of him myself and you stole all my fun.’

‘But I dealt with him for you.’

‘I never asked you to.’

‘So, in getting myself _out_ of your debt…’ Mack said slowly. ‘I put myself _in_ your debt?’

Andrew made his tone patronising. ‘You finally understand. Well done.’

‘Shut the fuck up,’ she snarled, leaning forward. 

‘No.’

Their gazes warred with each other until Mack sighed harshly and slumped back against the wall once more. ‘Very well. Name your terms,’ she conceded.

‘Oh, I have but one,’ Andrew said, holding one finger up. ‘That you either stay or leave. No more dancing from one indecision to the next. No more toying with Neil. No more Mary-Go-Round.’

Mack chewed the inside of her cheek in consideration. ‘Why does my brother mean so much to you?’

Andrew shook his head. ‘You’re not listening,’ he said, enunciating every consonant. ‘You are a ticking time bomb and one day you will detonate.’

‘And when that day comes you want Neil out of the path of destruction,’ she said shrewdly. 

She was right, but Andrew pointed a finger at her in warning. ‘Do not presume to know what I want.’

‘Fine,’ she spat, kicking off from the wall. Andrew knew she was technically taller than him but their warring glares were level when she spoke. ‘I’m staying in a safehouse near campus, so I’ll be nearby but not a quote “thorn in your side” unquote. I have no idea what I’ve done to offend you so greatly, nor what exactly my brother means to you, but I will be around to protect him, and if it just so happens that I need to protect him from you?’ She took a menacing step forward. This was breaching Andrew’s personal-space barrier but he didn’t make to move away. ‘I think we both know I’m perfectly capable of dispatching a vile little wretch like you.’

Andrew’s hatred for her had immediately grown the second she had said “unquote.”

He flicked his cigarette boredly over his shoulder, careful to mind Abby’s roses, and walked past her dismissively. ‘Don’t stay too close, Mary.’

Ignoring her irritated huff, Andrew stepped back inside, locking the door behind him. He turned to meet the shocked gazes of Kevin, Abby, and Wymack. Well, Kevin and Abby looked shocked. Wymack just looked tired. Belatedly, Andrew realised the window must have been open. 

‘Is this going to be a problem?’ Wymack asked wearily. 

Andrew could have laughed, if laughing was something he partook in. ‘Oh, Coach,’ he said instead. ‘When has anything to do with the Jostens ever been a problem we couldn’t handle?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mwahahahaha
> 
> God I love writing Mack and Andrew interactions, they're so fun. Hope you enjoyed the Josten-sibling bonding at the beach!! Let me know in the comments and don't forget to leave kudos if you're enjoying this fic so far!! Love to you all <3


	12. Human

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner at Abby's (and some reminiscing).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!!  
> So this chapter was a little late because:  
> 1\. Uni's kicking my ass  
> 2\. I'm currently working on something really cool which will hopefully be ready for sharing soon   
> The cool thing is a band au collab I'm doing with an artist friend. The first fic will be heavily Andrew/Neil, but the second is Kevin/Andrew/Neil hehe  
> It's been a lot of fun and I can't wait for you guys to read it!! You can subscribe to me to get the update or follow my [my tumblr.](https://m-ercey.tumblr.com/)  
> Anyways, hope you guys enjoy this update!!

In spite of Minyard’s warnings to back the fuck off, Mack remained stubbornly in close proximity to her brother and, by extension, the court. It was early in the evening when Mack sat in the stands, an apple in one hand and a book in the other—the same way she would pass the time when she had been dragged out to watch Neil’s little-league games.

She jumped when someone sat beside her before recognising Abby Winfield’s unerringly kind smile. 

‘Sorry,’ Abby said quickly. ‘Is it alright if I join you?’

Mack warily closed her book and gestured for Abby to take a seat.

‘You’re not usually here,’ Mack said once Abby was settled. It sounded like an accusation but Mack didn’t apologise.

‘I had a patient,’ Abby explained. ‘New freshman who wanted to get his physical over with early.’

Mack nodded, then frowned. ‘Do… all the players get physicals?’

Abby pursed her lips, hearing Mack’s underlying question.  _ Have you seen my brother’s scars? _

‘They do.’

Mack exhaled. She had only been watching Neil again for less than a week, and yet it was so plain to see that he trusted these people to a terrifying extent. She supposed that if she and Neil had been normal his growth would be a positive thing. As it was, they weren’t normal, and so this new development failed to do much other than make Mack irrationally anxious for her brother.

Abby peered around Mack. ‘What are you reading?’

Taking the battered book she’d found in a charity bin, Mack passed it to Abby. ‘ _ The Handmaid’s Tale, _ ’ she said, redundantly. ‘It’s alright, but someone needs to tell Margaret about full-stops.’ Mack caught Abby’s smile and grew defensive. ‘What?’

‘Oh, nothing,’ Abby said, touching the cover of the book lightly before returning it. ‘You called them full-stops.’

‘Periods. Whatever.’

The sound of Abby’s laugh was nice. There was no bite to it, not like Helena’s. Mack thought she could see the appeal of trusting someone as guileless as Abby. 

‘I did come and talk to you for a reason,’ Abby said and Mack raised her eyebrows in invitation to continue. ‘The team’s having dinner at my house tonight, before the rest of them get here tomorrow with more newbies. I wondered if you would like to join us? It’s just a barbecue, nothing fancy.’

Struck dumb, Mack fumbled for words that would communicate a passable rejection. Yet there was a hopefulness in Abby’s eyes, which were a pretty shade of green, and Mack found herself not wanting to disappoint her. 

‘Have you asked Neil? He might not want me there.’

‘I asked him just this morning,’ Abby said quickly. ‘He didn’t have any protests. Though he wasn’t too happy about the rest of them making bets about whether or not you would show.’

Unable to help herself, Mack smirked. So Neil still didn’t gamble. At least one thing was the same. ‘What’d Andrew bet?’

Abby frowned. ‘Is antagonising Andrew a family trait?’ she asked, earning Mack’s interest.

‘I thought he and Neil got along?’

Abby’s smile turned wry as she stood. ‘They didn’t at first. I hope to see you tonight, Mack. Between you and me, Nicky was the only one who bet in your favour, and I don’t think he can pay up.’

Mack hummed at Abby’s attempted guilt-trip, her eyes narrowed. ‘I’ll think about it.’

A few minutes after Abby’s departure, just as the Foxes on the court were making for the showers, Mack’s phone rang.

She exhaled heavily when Stuart’s familiar voice greeted her through the speaker. ‘Dinah.’

‘Hey, Uncle Stuart. How’re things?’

He sighed in return and Mack pictured him running his hand over his face like he did when he was stressed. ‘They’re slow. How’s Nathaniel?’

‘Oh, you know,’ Mack said airily, glancing down at where Neil was passionately talking with Kevin, ‘he’s fine. Exy-obsessed as ever.’

Stuart grunted his approval, presumably thinking about how Neil’s entire survival was now contingent on his exy obsession. ‘I should bloody-well hope so,’ he muttered and paused for a moment, just long enough to make Mack feel awkward. ‘And you?’

‘Also fine,’ Mack snapped, impatient. ‘Have there been any developments?’

The information Mack was desperate for was technically something she wasn’t supposed to know. Moriyama had sent a man to infiltrate Hitchener’s organisation and get eyes on any potential threats, namely: Lola Malcolm. With Moriyama it wasn’t a matter of finding no evidence of a threat and then leaving Hitchener be; it was a matter of dismantling the web before taking the spider out.

The web refers to the chain-reaction of traps that Hitchener’s death would inevitably trigger. Most mobs have them in place for their higher-ups, and Mack was growing impatient the longer it took for Moriyama’s spy to return with something useful.

Stuart did not sound pleased about how in-the-know his niece was. ‘Landler’s been telling you things he shouldn’t.’

‘Dorian has his uses. I’d rather hear it from you, though.’

Ignoring her, Stuart ploughed on. ‘I don’t trust him. You’re not giving Helena’s nonsense any thought, are you?’

Mack narrowed her eyes, her heart beating faster at her uncle’s implication. Helena hadn’t exactly been subtle about her suggestive bullshit. ‘It’s not really your business what I think, nor is it  _ Helena’s,  _ of all people.’

‘I’m only saying—’

‘Could you just fill me in so I can end this conversation?’

Embarrassment wasn’t an emotion Mack was well-acquainted with, and the burning in her cheeks annoyed her. It was all very “girlish.” 

She was pulled from her thoughts when Stuart proceded to tell her everything he and Helena had been doing behind the scenes. How they dissuaded an old rival from taking up arms against Stuart now that he worked for Moriyama, wiped Mack’s DNA results off the FBI database, and convinced Moriyama that putting Mack in South Carolina was the smartest choice. Mack appreciated his approach: short, succinct, without personal commentary or introspection. If only they could always talk this way.

‘Can you still get a hold of Rada tonight?’ Stuart was saying as a freshly-showered Neil approached her in the stands, taking a seat in the row in front of her. ‘I trust him to keep Landler away until events necessitate his involvement.’

Mack grimaced but didn’t want to pull that thread. ‘Can’t tonight. I’ve got dinner plans.’

Neil’s eyebrows rose and Mack looked down before he could do something obscene like  _ smile  _ at her. 

‘Dinner plans? Not with Landler.’ 

‘No!’ Mack gritted out, exasperated. ‘I gotta go.’

‘Dinah, wait.’ Stuart took a deep breath. ‘Remember what you’re there for. Your job is to protect Moriyama property. Don’t lose sight of that.’

Fury curled in Mack’s chest like a viper as she looked at her brother: Moriyama’s property.

‘Got it,’ she muttered darkly, and snapped the phone shut before he could say anything else. 

Neil was watching her. His arm braced on the back of his seat, chin propped on his forearm, blue eyes boring into hers. He pointed to her face. ‘Why’re you blushing?’

Automatically, Mack cupped her hand over her cheek. ‘It’s hot in here.’

Neil rolled his eyes at her bald-faced lie; the stadium stands were actually quite cool.

‘What was that about?’

‘Hm?’

‘The phone call.’

‘Oh.’ Mack considered how much she could tell her brother. ‘Stuart was just letting me know the FBI found my DNA in Nicky’s house when they were cleaning up after the shootout. It’s taken care of.’

‘Uh huh.’ If Neil suspected she wasn’t telling him the whole truth, he didn’t comment. ‘What’d they find?’

‘Probably hair or something.’

‘Is there any DNA left on that? Or would the results just come back: peroxide?’

Mack leaned forward to flick Neil’s forehead. ‘Punk.’

He grinned in reply. ‘So you are coming to Abby’s tonight, then?’

The vulnerability in his voice sobered Mack quickly. ‘Only if you want me to.’

‘I do,’ Neil said, without hesitation.

His quick response had Mack smiling, smirking, a microscopic twitch of her lips that felt out-of-place and exaggerated on her features. ‘Okay.’

Stuart’s words echoed in her ear.  _ “Your job is to protect Moriyama property. Don’t lose sight of that.”  _ They mingled with Moriyama’s words to her, weeks before:  _ “Just because I don’t own you doesn’t mean I can’t control you. Everyone’s got their price.”  _ As she watched Neil return to the rest of his team it occurred to Mack that, without much effort at all, Moriyama had managed to buy her anyway.

—

Neil was the one to answer the door when Mack’s roaring bike engine signalled her arrival. He leaned against a post on the porch and noted the way she painstakingly arranged her hair once her helmet was off, making sure the scar on her neck was hidden. Neil felt a fresh wave of anger wash over him.

‘I thought this was nothing fancy,’ Mack said when she approached.

Neil frowned at her until she gestured to his clothes. He was wearing the latest thing Andrew had bought him, light blue jeans and a white collared shirt. Neil had rolled the sleeves up and left his forearms bare, he was only around family tonight. Family, plus the freshman dealer, Ryan Hester, but Ryan’s full-body burn scars were far worse than Neil’s. 

‘This isn’t fancy,’ Neil argued, tugging on his sleeve. 

Mack cocked her head as the two of them went inside. ‘You’re right. I’m just used to seeing you in sweats, or your uniform, considering all you seem to do is exy.’ Her voice was teasing.

Neil knocked his shoulder against hers in reply as they entered the kitchen where Abby and Nicky were laughing and chatting animatedly. 

Nicky looked up and beamed. ‘Hey! You made it!’

Slyly, Mack said, ‘Couldn’t make a welcher of you, could I?’

Nicky’s cackle and Abby’s confused frown made Neil smile. ‘European joke,’ he explained and Abby nodded gratefully. 

‘Oh, Neil, would you take over the vegetables, please? Sorry, Nicky.’

Putting a hand on his chest in mock-hurt, Nicky stepped back. Neil took his place, shaking his head at Nicky’s wonky attempt at dicing carrots. 

Nicky circled the counter, but he didn’t go quietly. ‘Abby, how _could_ you?’ he squawked. ‘I see what’s happening here. It’s okay, I’ll just peel potatoes with my new friend Mack.’

Neil watched out of the corner of his eye as Mack stiffened, almost imperceptibly, before taking the peeler Nicky offered to her. There was no way Nicky could know what he had done, but he might as well have asked Neil to carve up a pig. Mack was trained in domestic chores as a child: cooking, cleaning, obeying. Though her punishments had never been severe enough to leave a mark; the faded, silvery scars littering her fingers could attest for the fact that Nathan Wesninski had put his daughter in the kitchen the minute she could hold a knife.

Without thinking, Neil held his hand out for the peeler. Mack blinked at him, her hand stubbornly clenched around it. ‘Give it to me,’ Neil murmured. 

‘It’s fine.’

‘Mack—’

‘I said it’s  _ fine _ .’

Neil saw how much it cost her to pick up a potato. Saw the way her breathing accelerated, the way her knuckles were white around the peeler, the way Nicky and Abby were watching warily.

‘Jostens and their infinite issues.’

Neil sighed as Andrew stepped into the room and took a swig of his beer, leaning against the fridge. Neil knew Andrew was on board with his plan to help Mack, and he knew that this was what Andrew’s particular brand of helping looked like, but that didn’t mean he looked forward to the eventual fallout. 

‘What did you just say?’ Mack asked, cold as ice. 

‘You can skin a man but not a vegetable?’

Neil took his hand back and braced for impact. It was clear that Andrew had intended to sound bored, but Neil saw through him to the curiosity underneath. Time seemed to slow.

And then Mack laughed.

The sound was so unexpected, Neil worried that his sister was further gone than he’d feared. 

‘Skin a man. Oh, you daft fool.’ Neil relaxed slightly and Mack’s jaw dropped. ‘Neil! You thought I—’

‘I didn’t know what to think!’ Neil quickly defended himself. 

Abby cautiously stepped out, saying some excuse about checking Kevin’s allergies, and Neil waited until she was out of earshot to continue. He didn’t blame Abby for not wanting to hear this. 

‘I still don’t really know what working for Uncle Stuart entails,’ Neil said lowly. ‘For all I know—’ he trailed off.

Mack considered him, a slight frown on her face. ‘I “lack the constitution for torture,” remember?’

‘I repressed about ninety-nine percent of our childhoods, so no.’

Looking like she was about to laugh again, Mack bit her lip. 

Andrew didn’t bother to hold back a snort. ‘That almost sounded well-adjusted. If you were anyone else, I’d be convinced.’

‘Har har,’ Neil said, meeting Andrew’s eye and inclining his head in silent thanks. Andrew rolled his eyes and drank more beer. Neil hid his smile in his shoulder.

Mack shooed off Nicky’s quiet yet frantic apologies. ‘I’m not made of glass,’ she said, and ran the peeler over the potato. If the expert way in which she did it stirred dark thoughts up in Neil, no one needed to know about it, even if Andrew’s heavy eyes on him said that he had somehow recognised the change anyway.

— 

Dinner was an exhaustingly loud affair, even with Andrew contributing nothing to the conversation and the Jostens staying mostly quiet off to the side. Kevin, Nicky, and Aaron had taken the couch, with Mack and Neil occupying the rug with Ryan. Abby and Wymack were in the kitchen doing lord knows what, but Andrew got the feeling he hadn’t been told to “socialise, asshole,” for his own benefit. Andrew was perched on the windowsill, three beers in, and not any calmer in the face of Mack’s presence. He didn’t like the way she looked—observed.

The looks of uncertainty when she turned down a drink, of wariness when Wymack cussed one of them—or all of them—out, of surprise when Neil had something to say. It was the last one that Andrew fixated on, because it was a reaction she didn’t share with Neil. It seemed almost as though she kept forgetting that Neil could conduct himself in conversation; as though she kept forgetting he was human. 

Words Neil had said:  _ “I’m tired of being nothing.”  _

Andrew couldn’t help but remember who had forced Neil to be nothing in the first place, and wondered how much Mack had been involved.

‘Mack,’ Nicky said, yet again attempting to draw her into the conversation. ‘Do you have any embarrassing stories about Neil you can tell us?’

Mack and Neil frowned in the exact same fucking way and Andrew had to avert his gaze. 

‘Why would I do that?’ Mack asked.

Nicky faltered. ‘Yah— you know. Sibling stuff.’

‘Worst idea you’ve ever had,’ Aaron said in a rare bout of intelligence.

Kevin murmured in agreement but Mack looked to be thinking.

‘You don’t have to,’ Neil said.

She raised her eyebrows at him challengingly. ‘You scared I’m gonna  _ embarrass _ you?’

‘More like she’s gonna traumatise the freshman,’ Kevin muttered. Neil kicked his foot on Ryan’s behalf.

‘No, no. I have something,’ Mack began, frowning in concentration. ‘Um. When we were kids and Neil— couldn’t sleep, he used to get me to make him tea. Peppermint.’ Neil’s ears went a little red which, while interesting, didn’t distract Andrew from the pause before “couldn’t sleep.” 

Was she covering for Neil’s sake, or her own?

‘Anyway, one night we were in a motel and, this time, I couldn’t sleep.’ Mack gave Neil a fond look. ‘So Neil decided he would improvise peppermint tea with hot water and toothpaste.’

Nicky laughed. ‘Oh, Neil, that’s adorable.’

‘That’s disgusting,’ Aaron corrected him.

Mack nodded. ‘It really, really was.’

Crossing his arms over his knees, Neil pulled a face. ‘You drank it.’

‘Only some,’ Mack amended. ‘And only because you had the biggest, saddest eyes on an eleven year old I’d ever seen.’ Mack picked at the hem of her shirt, a small smile on her face. ‘Telling you “no” felt like kicking a puppy.’

As someone who had experience with telling Neil “no,” Andrew had to disagree. In fact, saying “no” to Neil had given Andrew a kind of satisfaction—maybe because Neil listened to him, because he never fought Andrew on it—because, to Neil, refusal of something he wanted was expected. He and Andrew had that in common. 

There was a thoughtful crease between Neil’s brows when he cornered Andrew after Mack had left, Neil on his way upstairs and Andrew trying to go down. 

‘Do you see my side of things yet?’ Neil asked. 

Andrew cocked an eyebrow. ‘What side is that?’

‘That she’s just a person. She’s not a threat.’

‘She’s not anymore,’ Andrew conceded, noting the way Neil and Mack reacted to each other and the incongruity of it all. ‘Not now that I’m here.’

Slowly, so slowly, Neil took Andrew’s hand. Andrew let him, squeezing once before Neil smiled and led the way to their room. Andrew supposed the glass of water he’d been on his way to get could wait. Once the door was closed behind them, Neil released Andrew’s hand. Andrew tried not to miss the steadying pressure.

‘Andrew.’ Neil sighed, looking pale and drawn in the ghostly light from the street. ‘What’s this really about? You know I’m capable of things, you know Renee’s capable of—probably—more. You heard both of us out within weeks.’ Neil’s eyes scanned Andrew’s. ‘It’s been months. What’s different?’

‘You and Renee are different,’ Andrew said firmly. ‘I’m not going to put my trust in someone who’s hurt you.’

Neil sighed again, heavier this time. He’d suspected Andrew felt this way for some time, Andrew realised. 

‘She never hit me, Andrew,’ Neil whispered. ‘I’m not just saying that. Do you really think I’d be so willing to let her back in if she had?’

Anger curled Andrew’s lips in a snarl. ‘You’re telling me that if your mother walked through the door, alive and well, that you wouldn’t—’

‘No, I wouldn’t,’ Neil snapped, and the bitterness in his tone made Andrew freeze. Neil took his hand again, an apology. His voice softened when he said, ‘When it was just me Mom had hurt, I could forgive it. I could say she was just keeping me safe and believe it. But Mack’s here now and every time she prioritises my safety over hers, or feels unduly responsible for anything that happens to me, that’s on Mom.’ Some of the anger was back in the hunch of Neil’s shoulders, but Andrew wasn’t stupid enough to believe any of that anger was directed at him. He was no stranger to maternal derision, after all.

‘So you want me to trust her?’ Andrew asked, softer than he’d intended.

‘No,’ Neil said. ‘I’m only asking that you give her a chance. She’s as much a result of our upbringing as I am, she just chose a different path.’

‘She had alternatives.’

Neil surprised Andrew with a small chuckle. ‘Not really. If she’d made the same choice I did and threw everything away for something she loved, she’d be on the stage. There’s no team to hide behind there. No one to share in the spotlight.’ Neil chewed his lip in thought. ‘I wonder if that was intentional, my parents wanting her to feel isolated.’

‘Probably a community service, not inflicting her on others.’

‘All I’m saying,’ Neil countered, ignoring Andrew’s comment, ‘is that she didn’t have a you. She didn’t have anyone to put her faith and trust into, and I’m starting to think maybe she’s been alone for longer than I thought.’ Neil’s other hand grasped Andrew’s so that his one hand was trapped between Neil’s two. ‘You gave me your trust and it saved my life.  _ You  _ saved my life, Andrew.’

‘Like you made it easy,’ Andrew grunted, pulse racing as he used their joined hands to tug Neil closer. ‘I’m going to kill you myself if you don’t stop talking.’

Neil’s smile was lost in shadow as he leaned in. ‘Make me.’

Andrew figured that was just as good as a “yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a lot happens in this chapter really, and I am sorry for that, but I promise the next chapter will be INFINITELY more interesting because, uh... *Mack meets the Foxes*  
> Thanks for the lovely comments on the last chapter, you guys rock!! Please don't be shy to tell me what you think of this chapter too <3 Love to you all!!


	13. Mack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mack meets the Foxes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HAVE RETURNED.
> 
> I promised myself that I wouldn't let this fic become a chore, and in order to keep that promise to myself I did have to take a small hiatus from it. But! I'm back now, and with a clear end in sight. Thanks so much to those of you who have stuck around (and to those who have just found this fic), I hope you enjoy!!

Neil was three miles out from Fox Tower when he began to suspect he was being followed. 

He’d woken up early that morning, buzzing with restless energy and in need of a run. The rest of the Foxes had moved back into the Tower the day before and Neil hadn’t been able to stretch his legs since his one failed jaunt around Abby’s neighbourhood. 

After changing as quietly as he could into running shorts and a hoodie—rousing a grumpy Andrew and settling him again with a quick squeeze of his hand—Neil had left the dorms and hit the pavement at a sprint.

Running around the college campus was different to running the streets around Abby’s house. Freer, somehow. Neil didn’t have to worry about angry neighbourhood dogs snarling at him through a fence, or cars high-tailing it out of driveways. The cafés were still closed this early, and there were hardly any people about. Which was why it was easy for Neil to notice that the same sleek, charcoal-grey car had driven past him three times.

At first he considered calling Andrew, then realised that in his haste to leave Neil had left his phone on his desk. 

Muttering a curse, Neil took a sharp turn behind a recycling barrel and waited for the car to pass before turning back the way he’d come. A few minutes later he saw the same car again. This time, Neil knew it couldn’t be a coincidence. He was being tailed. 

Lungs burning and legs trembling, Neil bolted up a sidewalk that would take him to a bike track. This would force his pursuer to follow him on foot, where Neil had the advantage of being the fastest player in Class I Exy. When the car continued driving, Neil let the track lead him back to the Tower. 

He waited for a few minutes behind the door before going upstairs, just in case whoever had been following him showed up. When nothing was forthcoming, Neil heaved a deep sigh and lugged himself up the stairs. He’d only just gotten the door to his dorm room open when something whistled by his ear and lodged itself in the wall behind him.

‘And you’re dead,’ came his sister’s dispassionate rebuke. 

Neil glanced back at the knife still stuck in the wall behind him then turned a wide-eyed look on Mack, who was perched casually on their small kitchenette countertop. ‘Are you insane?’ he demanded, louder than he’d meant to. ‘Was that you following me too?’

‘You’re sloppy,’ was Mack’s only explanation. ‘I had ample opportunity to take you out if I was so inclined.’

Neil rubbed the back of his neck. ‘Fucking hell, Mack,’ he muttered, pulse still racing as he went to fill a glass up with water. He glared at her as he gulped it down and refilled it again, sipping slowly this time. 

‘I am sorry for scaring you,’ Mack said after a stretch of tense silence. ‘I wanted to see what you’d do.’

‘Have a coronary, is your answer.’ 

Mack’s lips twitched and she ran a hand through her hair. Neil gestured with the hand holding the glass. ‘Your roots are showing.’

‘Ugh.’ Mack pulled a face and patted her hair down, like that would help.

‘Why keep dyeing it anyway?’ Neil asked, morbidly curious. ‘If you know it makes you look more like Mom, I mean. I thought you never liked the resemblance.’

Mack frowned but before she could answer, there was a cautious knock at the door. Dan, Allison, and Renee stepped inside, already dressed in gym clothes.

‘Neil,’ Dan said, eyeing Mack warily. ‘Everything okay? We heard you call out.’

Neil put his glass down. He absently wondered why Andrew hadn’t joined them yet. He was obviously awake if the girls had heard him from across the hall. Maybe he was waiting to see how Neil would handle the situation. That trust sat heavy in Neil’s chest.

Flashing a reassuring smile at Dan, Neil shrugged. ‘I just got a little startled by, uh—’ he gestured in Mack’s direction. Dan and Allison turned inquisitive looks on her while Renee smiled.

‘Mack,’ she greeted, holding out the knife Mack had thrown at Neil. ‘I believe this is yours.’

Mack took it back with a smirk. ‘Cleaning up my messes once again, Renee?’ she asked, referencing the time Renee had picked up pieces of a broken mug on Mack’s kitchen floor.

The tilt of her head was Renee’s only acknowledgement. 

Allison scoffed. ‘Yeah, you really showed that wall who’s boss.’ Her eyes narrowed as she scanned Mack’s tiny form. It was only when Mack stood near the other girls that Neil realised just how small she must seem to them.

Mack smirked and pocketed the knife. ‘Mack Josten. Neil’s sister. You must be Danielle Wilds and Allison Reynolds.’

Dan and Allison turned equally shocked looks on Neil and he lowered his eyes guiltily. He’d promised them no more secrets, and shame was hot in his cheeks when Dan sighed quietly. 

Then Dan surprised Neil by saying, ‘Well, it’s not like you’re the first Fox with hidden relatives.’

Neil couldn’t help his strangled laugh and, as though summoned, Kevin and Andrew chose that moment to join their procession. 

‘Morning, monsters,’ Allison said. 

Kevin grunted in response and made for the bathroom. Andrew passed behind Neil and brushed his fingertips over the back of Neil’s damp shirt. Neil smirked at the unsaid remark:  _ Couldn’t wait to sweat at the gym with the rest of us? _

Nicky, Matt and Aaron piled into the room a few moments later. ‘Has anyone checked on the Freshmen yet— Who is this?’ Matt asked.

Nicky gasped happily. ‘Macky! You joining us for a work out? Coach won’t mind.’

Mack’s eye twitched and Neil noted the tension in her shoulders when she shook her head. ‘There are a few things I need to do. I was only dropping by to give Neil something.’

She ignored Neil’s withering look in favour of grabbing her duffle bag but before she could leave Dan called out, ‘We’re having a party across the hall tonight. If you want to join, that is.’

Mack froze by the door, looking simultaneously vulnerable and incredulous. ‘A party?’

‘Yeah!’ Dan pounced on her hesitation. ‘Just the people in this room and some alcohol. Which you don’t have to drink,’ she hastily added. ‘Neil and Renee don’t.’

It wasn’t entirely true. Neil wouldn’t drink in front of the freshmen, but he knew they were having their own little party tonight. Maybe he would have a drink or two. Maybe he would find out if Mack’s relationship with alcohol was as complicated as his own. Maybe he didn’t want to know.

A little crinkle appeared between Mack’s brows. ‘I’ll think about it,’ she promised before tossing a wave in Neil’s direction and leaving. 

Neil avoided his teammates’ stares in favour of downing the rest of his glass like the water inside of it held the cure to stress. 

Everyone was still looking at him when he put the glass in the sink and he rolled his eyes. ‘Do we or do we not have freshmen to get into shape?’

The silence prevailed until Dan broke it with a fierce: ‘You heard the Vice-Cap! Move it!’

Neil was grateful for Dan’s intervention, but he knew there would be plenty of questions later. Maybe a drink would be needed by the end of the day.

—

Mack browsed the pharmacy’s box dye collection for forty minutes—if staring at one particular box titled: “Golden Auburn,” could be called “browsing.” It wasn’t Mack’s exact shade, but it was closer than any other colour her hair had been in nigh on ten years. She stared at the box, at the smiling woman with her plastic-looking, shiny hair, and froze. 

Neil’s questions had made her think. Why did she keep her hair looking like her mother’s? Was it to hide from reality? Another divergence to keep Mack Josten distinct from Mary Wesninski? Or was it to piss off the ghost of a woman who had resented their resemblance as much as she resented the man who was responsible for their subtle differences? 

Were any of these reasons good enough to not buy the box of dye?

Mack swallowed and reached for the box. 

_ I’m not a teenager getting back at my mum anymore. And I’m not a scared kid on the run. No more running, _ she thought viciously,  _ for good this time. _

She was just leaving the pharmacy when Dorian called her. A jolt of  _ something  _ went through her at the sound of his rich voice through the phone speaker. 

‘Mary.’

‘Hello, fiancé. To what do I owe this pleasure?’

Dorian wasn’t amused by her tone. ‘It’s about Neil.’

Immediately alert, Mack’s steps quickened. ‘Go on,’ she demanded.

‘Do the words “holy garden at night” mean anything to him?’

Mack frowned, opening the door to the big, fancy car Dorian had so graciously loaned her, and climbing inside. ‘How should I know?’

‘Well, you would have to ask him.’ Dorian heard the question in her silence. ‘I’m not the one on Neil Josten protection detail. I don’t think Lord Moriyama would appreciate my number in his call history.’

Mack accepted that without further remark. ‘Holy garden at night,’ she repeated, her head gently hitting the headrest behind her. ‘Where’d you hear it?’

‘A message I intercepted from Lola to Hitchener,’ Dorian explained. His voice sounded low and crackly, like he hadn’t used it in a while. ‘It was all coded but I assume “Junior” is—’

‘Neil.’ Mack closed her eyes briefly. ‘Yeah, that’s a safe assumption. So the garden’s a meeting place?’

‘Another safe assumption.’

Mack’s mouth curled into a grim smile. ‘Seems to me like we’re making an awful lot of assumptions here.’

Dorian murmured agreement. ‘That hadn’t escaped my notice. I did find one possible location that could be the garden.’

‘Where?’ 

‘An old warehouse. I’m checking it out tonight—’

‘Tomorrow night.’

Dorian paused. ‘Tomorrow?’

‘Because I’m coming with you,’ Mack said, like it was obvious. ‘And you need a day to rest up, I need you to be alert if we’re going near enemy territory.’

The phone speaker fuzzed as Dorian expelled a long breath. Mack shivered as though he had blown right into her ear. ‘So, I do all the dirty work and you call the shots. Is that how this works?’

‘I mean, preferably,’ Mack replied, only slightly joking, then made her tone serious. ‘Dorian, I appreciate that you have a lot at stake here, but you sound like you haven’t slept this century. You don’t have a lot of experience in the field but I can confidently tell you it’s dumb shit like exhaustion that makes you fuck up. Not sleeping gets you killed.’

‘I knew you cared if I live or die.’

‘Well, who else would do all my dirty work for me?’

Dorian laughed harshly. ‘Fine. I’ll sleep, and I’ll see you tomorrow.’

‘Pick me up at eight,’ Mack said lightly.

‘It’s a date,’ Dorian replied, for once joining in on Mack’s joking and hanging up before she could comment on it. 

She tossed the phone to the passenger seat and started up the car. Mack missed her bike, but she knew the car was better for the sake of anonymity. And for taking multiple passengers. Neil’s attachment to the Foxes meant he wasn’t likely to leave any of them behind in an emergency, and Mack had to be prepared for any and all eventualities. 

That meant forsaking her gorgeous bike in favour of the soccer-mumish SUV with blackout windows she was currently parading around Palmetto. 

_ Why the hell does Dorian even have this thing?  _ she wondered as she drove, determined to keep her thoughts away from Neil and everything to do with the “holy garden at night.” She could ask him about it when she saw him later, at the hang-out Danielle Wilds had so spontaneously invited her to. 

Truthfully, Mack had about a thousand more pressing matters to think about, all to do with the subject of Neil’s safety, and probably should have gone with Dorian to the warehouse that night. But she was fascinated by Neil when he was around the Foxes. Neil got to laugh, to smile, to joke; to trust. All the things neither of them had been able to do all their lives, and Mack couldn’t get enough of watching it. 

One of them had made it, and she was glad it was Neil. 

Mack pulled into the driveway of her temporary residence, situated in the same building as one David Wymack, and reached for her phone again. Her fingers hit the box of dye. She stared at it for an age with her hand outstretched, considering. In the end, it was her steady, pale fingers that strengthened her resolve. One part of her was ready for this, the rest of her would catch up.

‘No more running,’ she reminded herself quietly, and grabbed both in her hands.

— 

Andrew hated the taste of beer. He didn’t know why anyone bothered to drink it, except to appear like they were interested in women, which Andrew was decidedly not. One beer tasted awful, but after that they went down like water. No one drank only one beer and called it a day, and Andrew had made the executive decision to drink as much as he could while remaining coherent.

Why? Because Mack Josten had walked through the door with Neil’s fucking hair colour.

It was just hair, and Andrew knew that, but he also knew that for the Josten siblings, hair wasn’t just hair. Neil had so many issues with image that he couldn’t bear to catch sight of his reflection in a mirror, and Andrew could only assume that Mack’s appearance mattered just as much to her. That was the thing about having something held out of reach for so long; deprivation made you covet it when you eventually grew tall enough to grasp it. 

Andrew knew a little something about being denied the right to something that was integral to you. He scowled as he continued drinking. It was fortunate for Mack that Andrew was having one of his good days, which were few-and-far between.

No one had mentioned the hair just yet, which meant that no one would. Even Nicky had let it go after recognising the guarded look in Mack’s eye. Everyone had been watching Mack, but only Andrew had been watching Neil. No one else had seen the almost imperceptible softening around his eyes, the rueful twist of his mouth as he recalled his earlier comment about her roots, which had doubtlessly inspired his sister’s change in headgear. No one else saw the way he stopped looking at her like she was a ghost, and started looking at her like she was a fond but distant memory. A favourite teddy instead of a creepy, bug-eyed doll.

The man had too many issues, but then, that was how Andrew’s interest had originally been ensnared. 

Andrew exhaled from his vantage point on the girls’ windowsill, catching Renee’s attention, but losing it again when he refused to meet her eye. Renee could take a hint, at least, which is more than could be said for one Miss Mary Mack. 

He caught her staring at Neil more times than he cared to count—twelve—and each time he felt rage curl in his gut. Rage was the easiest emotion to feel these days. Everything else lingered uncomfortably, like sunscreen and water, a slimy film that he could never quite seem to get rid of fast enough.

And slimy emotions weren’t the only annoying thing to linger. 

Andrew had been crystal clear with Mack when he told her to fuck off. Her disappearing act was imminent, and if Neil had a breakdown before the start of the season, his little junkie mind would snap in two, and Andrew didn’t want Neil to have to put those pieces back together.

‘Okay, so, someone explain,’ Boyd was saying, his obnoxious voice revving like an engine of stupid. ‘Neil has a... sister?’

Everyone in the room except for Mack and Andrew stiffened.

‘Yeah,’ Mack confirmed. ‘In Neil’s defence, he thought I was dead—I thought he was too.’

Andrew couldn’t help himself. ‘A real-life Viola and Sebastian,’ he said, raising his can in a toast.

Wilds cocked her head to the side like a spaniel. ‘You’ve read  _ Twelfth Night _ ?’

‘Juvie was starved for reading material.’ Andrew shrugged, working the tab off his beer can. ‘What was I supposed to do between making shivs?’

There was a hush over the room as its occupants realised that Andrew had just made a joke. Boyd barked a sharp laugh, almost like it had been startled out of him, and Nicky hesitantly joined in. Andrew checked how many standard drinks were in his beer.

‘The juvie experience. Huh, Andrew? Making shivs and sucking di— oof!’ 

Sometimes, Andrew thought having Aaron around was a good thing, if only so he could shut Nicky up when necessary.

‘Um, so, yeah,’ Wilds hastily cleared her throat and grasped at the original topic. ‘So Mack was in protective custody or something all this time?’

Mack and Neil shared a perplexed look. ‘What makes you say that?’ Neil asked.

‘Well, she’s a minor, isn’t she?’ Wilds stammered, turning to a frowning Mack. ‘Or you were, until recently. That’s why you can see Neil now, right?’

Instead of answering her, Neil suddenly smirked. ‘You hear that, Mack?’

‘No,’ Mack shot back.

‘I always knew I was the more mature-seeming one.’

‘People confuse maturity for retro and you just so happen to look like a Cabbage Patch Kid from the eighties. Shut up.’

The siblings shared a theatrical glower before the spell was broken by Reynolds’ observation that it was “weird seeing Neil act like a normal brother.” Andrew hated it, but he was inclined to agree with Reynolds. “Weird” was a bit of a generalisation, but Andrew didn’t want to think particularly hard about why watching Neil interact with the sibling he’d grown up with made Andrew feel— Well,  _ feel.  _

He avoided Aaron’s eye as he got up to stand, making a quiet exit, but remaining in the hallway. Did he want to go to the roof? Back to the dorm? Maybe to the parking lot? Andrew’s thoughts were beginning to adopt the cadence of a Dr. Seuss poem. 

_ To the car,  _

_ to a bar,  _

_ to stay near,  _

_ to go far.  _

_ So many choices,  _

_ each one the same,  _

_ no outrunning the voices,  _

_ Andrew couldn’t name. _

‘Andrew?’

Andrew blinked, somehow surprised to find himself still standing in the hallway. How much time had passed? 

He turned slowly to see Mack, looking  _ concerned,  _ of all things.

Andrew snarled, ‘What the hell are you playing at?’

Almost immediately, Mack blinked and the concern dropped from her features. ‘I’m not  _ playing  _ at anything, dickhead.’

‘Really?’ Andrew asked, unconvinced. ‘Why change your hair? Why follow me out here? Why  _ stick around,  _ Mary? The truth. Now.’

Mack set her jaw, returning Andrew’s gaze with a disgustingly brazen amount of eye-contact, and said, ‘I’m here for Neil. I’m here to protect him, like I always have.’

With a scoff, Andrew dismissively waved her claims away. ‘Can’t a flighty little bird learn to sing a new song?’ he asked, and pushed past her to make for the stairs. He’d decided a drive was just what he needed.

‘Wait,’ Mack gritted out.

Andrew kept walking.

‘You’re right. I’m reusing the same platitudes. There is more than one reason I’m here.’

Regrettably, that got Andrew’s attention. He stopped, turning just enough to invite her to continue, and she sighed in frustration.

‘Look, I— I never got to see Neil happy, not really. We were always mindful of happiness because if you let your guard down, you make mistakes. But here… Here Neil gets to be happy. And he is, because of this team, this sport, even because of you—for some unfathomable reason—and I like watching that, being around it. It— it makes it all feel less pointless,’ Mack finished.

Andrew poked his cheek with his tongue. Discovering all the human facets of Mack was less than comfortable, but it was something that Andrew could deal with. 

He nodded. Mack nodded back. Then the door behind her opened, and Neil stepped out. He looked relaxed, not because he was dressed casually in a dark blue shirt and artfully torn jeans, but because his face was relaxed. Eyes half-lidded, small smile around his mouth, eyebrows not drawn down for once. 

Then Reynolds’ drunken shout of, ‘No fucking in the dorm, lovebirds! Kevin could walk in at any moment,’ broke the spell.

Neil’s loose posture went stiff, his eyes flicking to Mack, who hadn’t put it together just yet… and then it clicked.

Mack’s lips parted in surprise as her gaze darted between Andrew and Neil. It was almost like Andrew could read her thoughts, see the “unfathomable reason” for Neil’s involvement with Andrew presenting itself in the most impersonal way. Andrew would have revelled in watching the cogs in her mind turn if it weren’t for Neil’s obvious distress.

‘Oh, Neil. I—’

Neil gave her exactly five seconds to complete her response and, when nothing was forthcoming, he did what he’d been born to do: he ran.

Andrew watched him flee to their dorm, and watched Mack watch him, her mouth still gaping open like the moron she so clearly was. 

Her piercing eyes found Andrew’s. ‘I froze,’ she whispered, almost in disbelief.

‘You fucked up,’ Andrew corrected her, and followed Neil into their dorm. His drive could wait until later.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can be found on [tumblr](https://m-ercey.tumblr.com/) and on [twitter](https://twitter.com/m_ercey) if you wanna chat!! 
> 
> Thanks for reading guys, hope you're all doing well <3


	14. Stakeout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mack and Dorian check out Lola's possible whereabouts while Andrew and Neil train the unruly baby foxes. Shenanigans ensue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I feel bad about how long it's taken me to write this chapter. Anxiety's kind of just an angry caveman tearing down progress like: THIS IS AWFUL. DELETE IT ALL. TRY AGAIN FROM THE START.
> 
> Anyway, I added two extra Mack POVs to this chapter. I hope you enjoy!!

By the time a quarter to three in the morning rolled around, Mack had given up on sleep. She lay, staring at the ceiling from beneath the too-comfy covers of her too-comfy bed, unable to forget the way Neil had looked at her. 

The scene replayed over in her head. 

_ ‘No fucking in the dorm, lovebirds! Kevin could walk in at any moment.’ _

Neil’s relaxed posture at once turning rigid, his feet bracing to run. 

_ ‘Oh, Neil. I—’ _

Mack grappling with words that didn’t sit right on her tongue, mind racing as she thought for something—anything—to say.

The brief flash of a second in which Neil reassembled those walls Mack had thought were broken down for good. Walls that now served to keep her out, specifically. 

_ ‘I froze.’ _

Andrew Minyard’s derisive glare as he corrected her.  _ ‘You fucked up.’ _

The scene rewound in an instant behind Mack’s eyelids and began playing from the start. She rolled over, groaning into a pillow before casting it violently down the bed. This time her mother’s voice mocked her:  _ Too good for a pillow? Think of all the times you longed for one, cramped in a bathtub or the floor of a closet, thinking that to have something soft beneath you would make all the difference. How you have changed, my girl. _

Mack thought that, in that moment, more than ever, she hated her mother. For having children, for condemning them to this life, for never giving them a chance to be the kinds of siblings who can talk about their relationships; for never giving them a chance to be the kinds of people who can have relationships in the first place. 

But hating the dead was a waste of energy.

Bunching her blanket in her hands, Mack tugged it over her shoulders, wincing as her bad shoulder seized. It ached every winter since she’d sustained two bullet-wounds near her collarbone at the age of sixteen. Rolling out of bed and dragging the blanket along the ground like a cape, Mack made her way out to the small living-area. 

Her apartment in Palmetto was modest lodgings. It had one blue couch with at least two broken springs, a box-TV with three channels, and a small cabinet underneath that she had filled with books acquired from various charity bins. Flicking the overhead light on, Mack grabbed the beaten-up copy of  _ Twilight _ she’d started earlier, sat on the couch, and read. 

It wasn’t a particularly complex book, and so Mack found herself easily lost in the world of Bella Swan. Her life was so simple. She could come home and make dinner for her hopeless cook of a father, who she loved. She could sit outside and read a Jane Austen novel, and nap when her eyes started to close. She could play question games with the boy she liked. And she could do it all without fearing her father’s next heavy blow, without worry for letting her guard down, without making sure not to reveal too much. 

It was a blissful existence, and Mack envied her. 

When she reached page 65, Mack paused to tear the top right corner of the page off. She folded it between her fingers as she read until a smooth, familiar voice came from behind her.

‘Now, that’s just disrespectful. I hope that book’s yours.’

Mack stiffened, letting the corner of paper flutter to the couch cushion as she caught a glimpse of Dorian reflected in the dark screen of the TV. ‘I wondered when you were going to make yourself known,’ she said, not deigning to turn around. He didn’t need to see her surprise; didn’t need to know she’d let her guard down enough for him to break into her apartment without her notice.

He laughed at her, the sound oddly soft in the silence. ‘You’re good company when you’re concentrating too hard to glare at me.’

‘Guess I’ll have to glare at you more often,’ Mack replied, desperately pushing the memory of Neil mocking her for her “reading face” from her mind. She turned to face Dorian. ‘What do you want? You’re not supposed to be here until tomorrow night.’

Dorian shook his head, abruptly serious. ‘Change of plan. They moved to a different warehouse. It’s close to here. I figured you’d want to check it out.’

Bristling at the idea that Dorian knew her well enough to offer, Mack glanced at the open window he must have come in through. Had she closed it when she got home? 

‘It’s late,’ she said, redundantly.

Dorian leaned over the back of the couch. ‘Are you scared of sneaking out with an older man and getting into trouble?’

Mack peered up at him before standing aggressively. ‘You’re trouble in human form’ she grumbled then said, ‘Of course, I’m coming,’ in the same breath, bumping him roughly with her good shoulder as she passed him by. ‘I’ll meet you down there but, for god’s sake, take the stairs.’

She shut the door on Dorian’s grin. 

— 

Mack didn’t show. 

Andrew had known the girl was a coward, Neil had told him as much. But he was still bitterly surprised when they made it to the court and the black SUV she’d been driving around was nowhere to be seen.

Andrew waited for Neil’s reaction, knowing the man was sure to surprise him, and was instead surprised by Neil’s lack of reaction. It was as though Neil had donned the blinkers worn by horses during a race, giving him tunnel vision for the game and nothing but the game. Andrew supposed he shouldn’t be surprised, but somehow he’d expected something else; something more. 

Practice passed with its usual languorous lack of urgency, Andrew leaving the rookie goalie to Renee’s instruction. Fiona Moffatt was incredibly tall, almost six-foot and with a long reach. But that reach made her slow. Andrew could see that she was trying, sweat darkening her already dark hair when she removed her helmet to drink, but there was only so much that could be taught, and Renee far surpassed him in patience.

The two new dealers, Ryan Hester and Raj Agarwal bounded over to clap Fiona on the back while she drank, all of them laughing when she choked. One night on the roof Neil had mentioned to Andrew that the three had formed an easy friendship. 

_ ‘I think they’re fitting in nicely, and Raj is quick on the court… when he and Ryan aren’t gawking at Allison, anyway.’ _

_ ‘I doubt Reynolds minds the attention,’ _ Andrew had replied, earning Neil’s smile. He always smiled when Andrew showed he was still listening.

What Andrew knew about the new backliner, Patricia, or  _ Patty _ Smith, he knew from his Wednesday sessions with Aaron. Aaron had taken the tall, blue-eyed, dark-haired girl under his wing alongside Matt—with the occasional hoot of encouragement from Nicky—and seemed to be enjoying his position as teacher. 

And then there were the problem children. 

Jack Iverson, and Sheena Chesney. 

Kevin and Neil were having a plethora of problems with the new strikers, not because they were bad players, but because they refused to take any kind of instruction from Neil. Andrew had caught the barbs Iverson threw Neil’s way about being a gangster’s son, a broken thing, a ticking time-bomb just a short count-down from committing murder himself. Andrew thought these were all pretty rich criticisms coming from the son of a convicted rapist. 

Of course, Andrew had found and read all of the files for this year’s batch of Foxes, and the story of Jack Iverson was a tragic one. Born John Iverson in Helen, Georgia to his seventeen-year-old mother who died when he was eight under “mysterious circumstances.” That was pig-talk for “we couldn’t be fucked finding out what happened.” John was put in his absentee father’s custody, had his name changed to Jack, lived with him until a few years ago when his father went to prison for rape and Jack was put in the foster system. 

As far as Foxes went, it wasn’t the worst story, but Neil had gone very still when Andrew shared his findings, promising to handle it. Not that he should have to. Andrew would have thought that Jack, of all people, knew better than to judge someone based on parentage. It was curious and Andrew glanced in the direction of the strikers. He turned his head just in time to see Jack swing his racquet at Neil’s legs. 

It would appear that “handling it” could be going better. 

The hit bounced off Neil’s shins, but there was enough force behind the swing that Andrew would wager Neil had felt the full brunt of it. Andrew was across the court before he registered his legs moving, getting to Neil’s side at the same time that Wilds did. Kevin was taking care of Jack, his voice loud and furious with an undercurrent of fear. Neil couldn’t break. Everyone but the freshmen knew this. If Neil broke, he was dead. 

Neil had stripped his shin pads off by the time Andrew got to his side and was inspecting the damage. Somehow Iverson had managed to hit both of Neil’s legs, at just the right angle so that the stick had clacked against the exposed strip in his gear, just below the knee pad, just above the shin pad.

Neil’s eyes were glassy when they met Andrew’s. ‘Any permanent damage?’ Andrew asked.

‘I’ll live, but these’ll need ice,’ Neil replied.

‘Can you walk?’ Wilds asked. ‘Hit like that’ll go straight to your ankles.’

Neil winced as he tried to get to his feet. ‘My knees, too. I think… I think I need help,’ he admitted.

Wilds looked like she was about to do something stupid, like cry, so Andrew extended a hand to Neil and hauled him to his feet. He looped Neil’s arm over his neck, letting him lean against him as they made for the door.

Reynolds was already waiting with an ice pack. The second Neil was sitting in the stands, his legs braced on a chair Wilds dragged over, Reynolds draped the ice pack over the red welts slowly appearing on Neil’s legs. 

Neil let out a hiss, letting go of Andrew’s shoulder. Andrew tried not to miss the contact, telling himself he just missed the restraint. Now he was free to cross back onto the court and show that brat Iverson exactly what happens when you take a swing at one of Andrew’s.

But Neil grabbed his hand, a request in his eyes. 

_ Don’t.  _

Andrew would get the message to Jack eventually, he thought as he sat in the seat beside Neil, maybe even at Eden’s that Friday. Neil squeezed his hand gratefully before letting go, still leaning into Andrew’s side slightly.

‘What a little fucker,’ Reynolds started, taking the seat on the other side of Neil. 

Neil shrugged. ‘He’s testing the waters. He’ll learn what crosses the line soon enough.’

Reynolds shook her head. ‘You’re so calm. I’d have skewered him.’ A silence stretched between them before Reynolds cleared her throat again. ‘I’m actually kind of glad I got the two of you alone. I wanted to apologise.’

‘Apologise for what?’ Neil asked. 

Andrew turned to watch the court. He’d let Neil handle this.

Reynolds winced. ‘Nicky brought it to my attention that I may have… outed you to your sister. I should’ve checked if she knew first or something, so, I’m sorry for that. I know family and Foxes is complicated at best and I know I didn’t exactly help last night.’

‘It’s not the first time you’ve done it,’ Neil said, shrugging. ‘You did the same with Andrew’s family in Baltimore.’

Andrew flicked Neil a side-glance for that. Neil responded by leaning heavier into his side. 

Reynolds rolled her eyes. ‘Yeah, but Andrew’s family is  _ Nicky _ . What’s he gonna do? Disapprove?’

‘You knew Aaron would.’

‘Yeah, because those two were so close in the first place—’

‘Allison,’ Neil interrupted her, feeling Andrew tense. ‘Why are you apologising?’

Reynolds looked Neil right in the eye and sighed. ‘Because I told Nicky that you were fine, but then your sister’s not here today. And she’s been at every practice for the last few weeks.’ She fixed Neil with a look that was about as sympathetic as Allison Reynolds could get. ‘You’re not fine, are you?’

‘I’m banned from using that word, so it’s handy that I’m not,’ Neil grumbled back.

Andrew snorted, but Reynolds didn’t laugh at his attempted joke. The truth of the matter was that she just didn’t understand. For a start, she was an only-child. Always had been. She didn’t know anything about  _ normal _ sibling problems, let alone Neil and Mack’s. 

Late last night, when Neil and Andrew had the dorm to themselves, Andrew perched on Neil’s desk and smoked and listened to Neil attempt to put his anxieties into words. The truth of the matter, Andrew supposed, was that Neil and Mack would never be the normal standard of “fine.” Their childhoods were comprised of hiding everything true about themselves, even from each other, and that fucks a person up. They were so used to lying, they didn’t know how to be honest, and Reynolds’ drunken heckle had torn a piece of Neil out into the open for Mack to inspect, and she hadn’t known where to start. Like handing a scalpel to a tailor and ordering them to operate, Mack hadn’t been prepared for the truth that lay beneath Neil’s exterior. And Neil hadn’t been prepared for the panic both of them were so clearly feeling. 

Reynolds spoke again. ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’ she asked. ‘I don’t have any practice in being a sister, but I can try until yours comes around. I’m sure she will, you know, eventually.’

Neil shrugged. ‘You can’t really come around to somewhere you’ve never been, but I appreciate that. Really. Thanks.’

‘Least I can do. Nicky really got all up in my face about it,’ she said. ‘It’s easy to forget he’s a monster, too, until you piss him off. He can be kind of scary when he wants to be.’

That was surprising. Andrew’s eyes found Nicky only to see he was already watching them. Nicky had never expressed his distaste over what happened in Baltimore, rarely expressed his distaste over much since Seth died and all Nicky had said about him prior to his death had been negative. He had too much Christian guilt to be properly mean, or so Andrew had thought. 

He made a note to ask Nicky about it later. Not to thank him—never to thank him—but out of curiosity. 

Kevin signalled Andrew from behind the plexiglass, crossing to the door. ‘Does Neil need a moral support team? Allison, ass on the court.’

‘My ass  _ and _ the court? You really think you can handle all that, Day?’ Allison said as she sauntered past him. 

Andrew enjoyed the reddening of Kevin’s cheeks for just a moment before Kevin nodded at him. ‘Jack has to shoot on you until he scores. Think you can teach him a thing or two?’

There came a pained groan from Neil as Andrew rose. ‘We need him able-bodied.’

‘Do we?’ Andrew asked, indicating the two strikers. ‘You two managed to hold the line last season. He’s not strictly necessary.’

Kevin inclined his head. ‘We do have Sheena as a spare.’

‘You’re both horrible,’ Neil muttered. ‘Fine, let him blow his arms out. It’ll be good for him.’

Andrew smirked, feeling the beginnings of satisfaction swell in his chest.  _ This is going to be fun.  _

— 

The clock hit three-thirty in the morning when Mack and Dorian pulled up outside a warehouse. They were about a hundred meters out, hidden behind a cover of trees. Mack squinted at the three entrances until Dorian passed her a pair of binoculars. Through them, she counted two guards posted at each door. 

‘Okay, so what are we expecting?’ Mack queried, passing the binoculars back to Dorian.

‘When I intercepted the message, it claimed this place was some kind of meeting place for exchanges. But it didn’t say whether Lola or Hitchener operate here directly.’

‘She’d want to be nearby,’ Mack said, her voice lowering. ‘She’d want to be in the action. Lola never could resist a good fight.’

‘You know her well, don’t you?’ Dorian murmured, and Mack was glad he was still looking through the binoculars. 

‘She watched me grow up,’ said Mack, ‘and I grew up watching her.’

Dorian lowered the binoculars, looking into her eyes. ‘You speak about her the way I feel about my father.’

‘You want him dead, too?’

‘I want him to pay,’ Dorian corrected her, something dark lying beneath the words. 

Mack raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m intrigued. You’re his heir and everything, not expendable. Stuart said you were his willing apprentice.’

Dorian glanced around, as though reluctant to tell her anything. Mack put her feet on the dashboard. 

‘Unfortunately for you, we have nothing but time.’

He sighed. ‘Well, really, it started with my mother. I’ve never known for sure, but I’m pretty certain he had her killed.’

Mack blinked. ‘Oh.’

‘They never got along, not since I can remember. He didn’t like that she named me after herself—her name was Dora—and then it just got worse from there. He didn’t like my involvement with my mother’s family, or her methods of teaching, or the way she fought him on everything. They never married, but for some reason they tried to raise me together. After a while, I think he just grew tired of her. She went on a milk-run of a mission and never came back.’

Dorian drummed his hands on the steering wheel, deep in thought. 

‘Maybe it was just that he never seemed sad over her death that made me hate him, but it got worse as time went on. Then there was June.’

‘Your wife?’ Mack asked.

Dorian nodded. ‘You already know she was a little older than you. When we married she was only sixteen. I didn’t touch her. She never seemed to want me around, so I kept my distance. Her parents weren’t as influential as yours, but it was what my father called “a suitable match.”’ Dorian’s mouth twisted cruelly as his voice changed into what Mack presumed was an imitation of his father. 

‘And then he— Uh…’

‘And then he slept with her, and she fell pregnant with his baby. But do you know why?’

Mack shook her head. Dorian’s eyes looked haunted. 

‘Because I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t touch her, and he was content with the knowledge that I would eventually. He thought that we would come to love each other. Instead, she hated me.’ Dorian ran a hand down his face, laughing slightly. ‘June hated everyone. And being around someone who hates you  _ that _ much? I had to ask my father for a divorce, for both our sakes. Instead, he tried to force her to stay.’

‘Oh my god,’ Mack choked.

‘She thought I was behind it, of course. Tried to kill me, ran away, got hauled back, tried to run again, and again, and again. When she was four months along she got further than ever and that was when Hitchener’s men caught her. By the time I’d tracked her down, it was too late.’

Dorian’s story hung in the air between them. Mack processed all she’d learned. Though she’d never met June, she felt a kind of camaraderie with this woman whose fate could have easily been her own. If not for the interventions of her mother, Mack could have been Dorian’s wife. She felt a little ill.

‘Are you okay, Mary?’ Dorian asked.

Mack took a shaky breath. ‘Yeah. I just—’ 

She was interrupted by the low hum of her burner phone vibrating in her pocket. She pulled it out, answering it with relief.

‘Yeah?’

_ ‘That was fast. You were not sleeping?’ _ Helena chided her through the speaker.

Mack checked the time on the dash. 3:57am. ‘I’m an early riser,’ Mack lied. ‘What’s going on?’

Helena sighed. _ ‘We got your message about “holy gardens at night.” Does Nathaniel have any ideas about what it could mean?’ _

‘Shit,’ Mack muttered. Amongst all the excitement of changing her hair, watching Neil with the Foxes, and royally fucking up her already tremulous relationship with her brother, Mack had entirely forgotten to ask him about the coded message. 

_ ‘You have not asked him?’ _

‘Ah, no.’ She glanced at Dorian, but he was looking resolutely out the window. ‘I got… distracted. It was stupid. I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.’

_ ‘Best if you do,  _ kiska. _ You and Mr. Landler might have some attractions towards each other but—’ _

‘Augh. Seriously?’ Mack complained. ‘I’ll do better. Goodbye.’

Mack hung up, slumping back against the seat.

‘Attractions, huh?’ 

‘I’ll kill you.’

Dorian laughed softly, but didn’t speak again.

There was still no sign of movement from outside the warehouse, and the security guards hadn’t traded shifts. Mack began to wonder about Dorian. He’d told her when they first met, what felt like years ago, that he planned to decimate his father’s circle and leave this life behind. 

At the time, Mack had thought he was doomed. But now there was Neil to consider. He had left his life behind. He was happy. Maybe Dorian could have that same future. Maybe he wasn’t so doomed after all.

‘Penny for your thoughts?’ 

Mack glanced at Dorian; lip caught between her teeth. ‘I’m thinking about my brother, how he managed to escape everything.’

Dorian quirked an eyebrow. ‘You mean how he escaped, and you didn’t?’

‘I never really tried all that hard,’ she admitted, ‘but no. I mean how he really,  _ really _ escaped. I mean he has friends and parental figures and a boyfriend and I—’ Mack swallowed uncomfortably. ‘I have no idea how he’s managed it.’

‘He sold himself to the Yakuza, if I recall correctly.’

‘I didn’t need the reminder.’

‘Hm.’

Mack sat straighter, pulling her knees up to her chest while Dorian peered through the binoculars. He seemed so strangely at ease given the current circumstances, and it made Mack feel especially awkward and unsure beside him.

‘Well, you don’t need to make deals with the mafia to make friends, Mary. Haven’t you found friends of your own?’ Dorian asked. He nodded to the phone and Mack rolled her eyes.

‘Helena’s more like an over-involved tutor. And she’s a hitter. It doesn’t count.’

‘Why doesn’t it count?’

‘Because… Because she only watches out for me because she owes my uncle a life-debt,’ Mack said bitterly. ‘She doesn’t do it because she likes me or because she cares. It’s an obligation, an arrangement, and that’s good. I understand those.’ Mack felt herself veering off-course, into dangerously personal territory, but she couldn’t bring herself to stop. ‘I don’t understand friendship, or loyalty, or love, so how the hell did Neil expect me to react to the revelation that he’s dating Andrew fucking Minyard?’

Clapping her hands over her mouth, Mack forced herself to shut up. Already, she’d revealed too much, and to someone she wasn’t even sure she could trust. 

_ Don’t trust, _ she hastily corrected herself.  _ You don’t trust Dorian Landler.  _

‘Minyard?’ Dorian asked, then shook his head when Mack glared at him. ‘Sorry. That— Honestly, I should have seen that coming.’

‘You’re not helping.’

‘Do you really want me to try?’

Mack shifted in her seat to face Dorian, leaving him to keep an eye on the warehouse behind her. ‘Sure. Hit me with your best advice, Mr. Stephens.’ Dorian gave her a blank look. ‘Like  _ Bewitched? _ The guy who wanted a normal life and married into a family of witches? Never mind.’

Dorian’s lips quirked. ‘I would have gone with Major Nelson.’

‘You would be an  _ I Dream of Jeannie _ fan,’ Mack muttered, ignoring the fact that she had also been an  _ I Dream of Jeannie _ fan when she was a kid. 

‘Okay, let’s look at the real issue here. You don’t know how to react to Neil being gay.’

‘Oh, well, no,’ Mack stammered. ‘I couldn’t care less that he’s gay, if that’s what he even is.’

‘He never mentioned boys when you were growing up?’

‘Not to my knowledge. We were never allowed to date, for obvious reasons, so we never really talked about that kind of thing,’ Mack said, then cocked her head. ‘What’s the general response to finding out your brother’s in a relationship?’

Dorian pondered for a moment before suggesting, ‘Congratulations?’ 

‘It’s no use,’ Mack groaned, fiddling with her hands. ‘You’re just as clueless as me with this kind of thing.’

‘You’re really telling me there was no one? Not even in your teens?’

Mack paused, and she paused for too long. 

_ ‘Oh?’ _

There was something teasing in Dorian’s tone, and Mack didn’t appreciate it. ‘We hadn’t been running for very long. I think I was fourteen? Maybe fifteen? Anyway, it was a childish crush.’

‘What was his name?’ Dorian teased again, imitating a gossip-hungry middle-schooler. 

‘Brendan,’ Mack replied. ‘I fancied myself in love with him. I know now that I wasn’t, obviously, but you know what they say about hindsight.’

Dorian made a thoughtful sound. ‘So, what happened with Brendan? Did he steal your first kiss?’

‘No, that very much still belongs to you,’ Mack said automatically and then cringed. 

‘What?’ Dorian asked, voice harsh as a whip in the dark.

‘Forget about it.’

‘That kiss in Wilmington was—’

‘My first kiss, yes,’ Mack snapped, venom lacing her tone. ‘And it wasn’t a big deal. I never got that luxury of fantasising about my first kiss, and when you kissed me it— It just wasn’t a big deal, okay? You had to make sure I didn’t blow your cover. That’s all.’

Dorian’s hand touched hers. She snatched it away. ‘Mary—’

‘Don’t get me wrong, you still shouldn’t have done it. And don’t give me that look. There are plenty of twenty-three-year-olds who haven’t been kissed. It’s overrated anyway.’

‘Mary, you know that it didn’t count—’

‘I don’t care if it counted or not!’ Mack snapped, and then quietened her voice. ‘You did what you had to do, it just… it caught me off guard.’

Dorian blew out a long breath. ‘I’m sorry, okay? I should have trusted you to stay quiet.’

‘Why would you have?’ Mack asked, frowning. ‘You didn’t know me.’

‘No, but I also…’ Dorian trailed off, shaking himself. ‘Never mind.’

‘Go on.’

Dorian met her eyes, and they were oddly vulnerable. Their breaths seemed loud in the quiet of the car’s interior and Mack swallowed. Tension was something she preferred to face when she was armed and on her feet.

‘I also wanted to kiss you,’ Dorian eventually admitted.

Impossibly, Mack began to laugh.

It wasn’t her usual sorry excuse for a laugh, but a quiet cackle that forced her head back, releasing the pressure between them. Her face burned in the dark, but she couldn’t seem to find it in herself to care.

‘What’s funny?’ Dorian asked, a smile in his voice.

‘It’s just such a— such a  _ normal _ thing, wanting to kiss someone. I haven’t thought about anything that simple in years.’

‘Not since Brendan?’ 

Mack tossed him a funny look. ‘You’re really stuck on my high school crush, huh?’

‘This is practice for talking about relationships,’ Dorian said, hiding behind the binoculars once more. ‘Go on.’

‘Ugh,’ Mack groaned. ‘We were kids. I’d read plenty of books where the love-interest could save the girl from whatever shit she was in, and I took it too literally. I let myself get too attached, until we were inseparable. I told him I wanted to run away together.’ 

Mack took the time to swallow before concluding the story. 

‘And then my mother caught on and gave me a reality check. That Brendan would get hurt on the run, or we’d get tracked down. That I wouldn’t survive without her, and Neil wouldn’t survive without me, and I would be to blame for all of them ending up dead.’ Unable to meet Dorian’s eye, Mack laughed at herself. ‘I really do suck at talking about normal things.’

‘No argument here,’ Dorian murmured. ‘But that’s an excuse. Neil won’t want to hear that.’

Mack huffed. ‘Well, what do you suggest, then?’

‘Be honest with him,’ Dorian said, like it was that simple. ‘Tell him you love him, and that although you haven’t talked about normal things before, you hope you can both start trying now.’

The advice was concise and surprisingly sound, but before Mack could tell Dorian so, the clock hit half-past-four and a truck thundered past them. Both Mack and Dorian sat forward. Something was about to happen. 

The truck stopped by what Mack assumed was the main entrance and three people jumped out, two of them relieving the guards of their post, the third— The third was Lola Malcolm. 

Mack’s tongue stuck itself to the roof of her mouth, her breath quickening. Even without the binoculars Mack knew her walk, knew her posture, knew the way she swept hair out of her face with the nail of her forefinger. Neither she nor Dorian dared utter a word as they watched Lola disappear inside of the warehouse, out of sight.

‘Any chance those binoculars also have infra-red sensors?’ Mack muttered.

‘I’ll be sure to bring the x-ray vision goggles next time,’ Dorian replied, and Mack couldn’t tell if he was joking. 

They waited in silence for Lola to emerge once more. Mack kept her hand on her gun—nothing more than a reassurance—and Dorian sat stiffly beside her, too tense to resume drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. 

Mack lost track of time. She stared at that door until it became a blur and her vision flashed white. Wait. That wasn’t her vision flashing.

‘Security,’ she hissed in warning as the torchlight passed over them once again.

Dorian immediately stowed the binoculars and leaned over into Mack’s space, his shoulders blocking her view of anything.

‘What are you  _ doing?’ _

‘I can’t have you getting shot, can I?’ Dorian growled in response, his eyes and shoulders pinning her in place. ‘With any luck he’ll think we’re just a dumb couple who picked a bad spot to make out.’

Mack groaned. ‘Why does kissing always have to be your go-to cover story?’ she lamented, even as she sunk her fingers into Dorian’s surprisingly soft hair.

His breathing stuttered, and then there were three rough taps on the window. Mack hid her gun behind her back while Dorian wound the window down. 

‘Ya can’t park here, kids,’ said the somewhat embarrassed security guard. ‘Private property.’

Dorian scratched over his head, possibly in an attempt to look embarrassed, possibly in an attempt to remove the feeling of Mack’s fingers from his scalp. ‘Sorry, officer. We got, uh, carried away.’

‘Please move your vehicle, and you be careful, sweetheart,’ the guard said, peering past Dorian even as he shifted to keep Mack blocked from view.

‘We will. Sorry,’ said Mack, gritting her teeth against the pet-name.  _ Sweetheart.  _

Dorian wound the window up, his face like thunder, and started the car. It wasn’t like stoic, broody silences were uncommon from him, but something about that security guard had made his grip tight on the steering wheel.

Tossing up between asking and remaining in silence took so much time that Mack’s decision was made for her. They were already halfway back to Palmetto with not word exchanged between them when he broke the silence, sounding calmer.

‘We can go to one of my father’s safehouses. That guy back there could have easily planted a tracker and I don’t want to lead him back to yours.’

Mack balked a little, offended. ‘I can take care of myse—’

‘Don’t fight me on this, Mary. Just don’t.’

Mack narrowed her eyes at him but, if there was one thing she’d mastered, it was patience. She’d get an explanation out of Dorian eventually, after at least four hours of sleep before getting to the foxhole court in time for practice. What she didn’t know was that once she was on Dorian’s couch, and her eyes were closed, they wouldn’t reopen for another thirteen hours, and she would miss practice entirely.

—

Neil was forced to take the lift due to his legs. They were going to be murder the next morning, but his annoyance was slightly quelled at the sight of Jack trembling his way up the stairs. He couldn’t get properly mad at one of his players, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t pissed off. Jack was just lucky that Neil would have the whole week to heal.

It was around five p.m. by the time they all got back from the court and around five-fifteen when Neil passed out on a bean bag chair. He vaguely felt someone put a blanket over him, but the next time he opened his eyes the sun had long-since set, and his sister sat beside him eating chinese takeout with a pair of chopsticks. 

Pretending to sleep was tempting, but her pale eyes met his before he could shut them again. 

‘It’s weird, seeing you asleep in the open,’ she commented. 

Neil sat up and groaned when the movement made him remember the pain in his legs. ‘Let me guess: I’m an idiot, I’m too trusting, I’ve let my guard down—’

‘No, no,’ Mack said, shaking her head. ‘None of that. I’m just here to say sorry. I thought I’d drop by and then Kevin said you were asleep and he was ordering takeaway so I decided to wait and… Look, I should have been with you at the court, but I got back late from a thing with Landler and just slept the entire day away.’

Neil frowned. ‘That’s not like you. Are you okay?’

‘I’m fine,’ Mack replied instantly. Neil was starting to see how annoying he must have been last year. ‘Just needed the extra rest, I think. Kevin also caught me up on the, uh—’ Mack gestured at Neil’s legs with her chopsticks. ‘—incident. Do you want your food? I think he got you lemon chicken.’

It was such a weirdly normal thing. His sister bringing him a box of lemon chicken and rice—with a fork because of course she remembered he’d never been able to master chopsticks—falling back beside him, a glass of water in her hand.

‘Thanks,’ Neil said, taking both the glass and the takeout. ‘How long have you been here?’

Mack shrugged, watching the television screen that showed some dumb action movie on mute. ‘Just under an hour? I think Kevin went next door and Andrew grabbed his keys before leaving so…’ 

Neil nodded, frowning. ‘Probably went for a drive.’ 

He hoped Andrew was okay. His leaving Neil alone with Mack was a good sign, a sign of trust, but he knew Andrew wouldn’t be happy about it later. Neil made a mental note to pick up a pint of chocolate fudge brownie after class tomorrow. 

A guy dodged a shitty-looking explosion on the screen just as Mack spoke again. ‘Neil.’ She paused, set down her takeout, then sat back, eyes still fixed on the television. ‘I know we never really talked about normal things like relationships, or how we’re feeling or anything like that, but…’ Now she finally risked a glance at Neil and seemed startled to see him already watching her. ‘Neil, I want to try.’

Neil shifted nervously, grimacing when his legs twinged. ‘Why?’

_ ‘Why?’  _ Mack asked, incredulous. ‘Because I want to be a part of this; this life you’ve managed to create. Because I’m  _ proud  _ of you.’ Neil narrowed his eyes at that and Mack swatted his arm. ‘Don’t give me that look, I just watched you sleep through a whole conversation between me and Kevin, you could never have done that a few years ago.’

‘What’s your point, Mack?’ Neil asked, not deigning to admit that he had probably only been able to sleep through their conversation thanks to the painkillers Abby gave him before he left the court.

Mack sighed. ‘I just don’t want to lose you again.’ 

‘You won’t.’

She smiled weakly at that, but fiddled with the ends of her hair. ‘I don’t know. You’ve outgrown our old life, I can see that plain as day. Do you think you can make room for me in this one?’

Mack turned to face him fully and Neil caught a flash of the scar on her neck. He looked down at his chicken, and swallowed. 

‘I’m not sure.’

Mack’s sharp intake of breath tore through him. ‘I mean… that— that’s fair enough, I suppose.’

‘I escaped Lola once,’ Neil said slowly, fiddling with his fork. ‘You escaped her, too. You got away from her. But you keep going back.’

‘I’m not going back—’

‘Then tell me where you and Landler were last night.’

It was a total guess on Neil’s part, but a good one judging by the way Mack’s cheeks burned. 

‘You need to let it go, Mack,’ Neil murmured. ‘There can’t be room in your life for both me and this crazy revenge quest.’

Mack was shaking her head. ‘Don’t make me choose.’

‘Well, I am,’ Neil said firmly. ‘You can either be my sister or my protector, I can’t have you be both again.’

Watching his sister, who always had something to say, floundering for words would have been satisfying, if it weren’t for the distressed twist of her mouth. He was the one hurting her like this, but he had to know; he had to know which of these people she would decide to be.

‘But I’m already both,’ Mack eventually settled on. ‘I always have been. What do you want me to do? Stop going after Lola so I can talk with you about boys? Wh—’ She shook her head, and Neil felt sorry for her.

‘I just want you to let it go,’ he said, his voice coming out strained and rough. ‘For your own sake, I want you to be my sister, to move on, to make your own life. And you can’t do that until all your old ties are cut, believe me.’

‘It’s not that simple,’ she whispered.

‘It can be,’ Neil replied. ‘You’re not in with Moriyama yet. Everyone still thinks you’re dead.  _ You can get out, Mack.’  _

_ ‘No, I can’t.’  _

_ ‘Why not?’ _ Neil snapped. His irritation was boiling steadily and he settled back before it could bubble over. 

‘Because I’ll never be out,’ Mack said, the words hitching on something suspiciously close to a sob. ‘I’m not like you. I don’t bounce back as fast, I never have. You grew up adapting to change. Accents, names, countries. I didn’t. I was always his  _ Princess,  _ his canary in a cage, and I always will be until I watch Lola Malcolm hit the ground with my knife in her neck.’

‘Fuck Lola. Forget her for a second. What about you?’

‘What about me?’

‘What are your plans for after she’s dead? Huh? Are you going to run again? Because if you are then there’s no point asking whether I want you in my life or not, you’re just going to disappear anyway.’

Mack squeezed her eyes shut. ‘I just need her dead, Neil. You have to understand that. I have to kill at least one of my demons, even if it’s just to confirm that they can die.’

A shudder passed through Neil at the vehemence in his sister’s words. She’d never let this go, not if he asked her to, not if he threatened her or backed her into a corner and made her choose. There was no more he could think to do.

He sighed, defeated. ‘There’s your answer, then.’

‘Neil—’

‘Please just leave, Mack. I’ll see you tomorrow when you tail me to class.’

‘I’m—’

‘Goodbye.’

Neil watched, chest aching, as Mack tripped over her takeout box in her haste to be gone, spilling chow mein onto the carpet. She hesitated, looking at the mess, and then left, closing the door softly behind her. 

Neil put his head in his hands. If he ever thought his own existence was tragic, all he had to do was look at Mary Dinah Wesninski. Her quest for revenge was going to consume her. Neil just didn’t think he could bear to watch it happen. 

— 

Tears blurred Mack’s vision as she stepped out into the rain. Dorian had dropped her at Neil’s dorm, and it was only now that she realised she had no way of getting back to her own flat without him.

‘Oh, shit,’ she muttered, and then resigned herself to a long, damp walk.

She pulled her hood up and began the trek down Ring Road, hands buried deep in her pockets, clutching her phone. There was no one to call, and she couldn’t risk getting a cab. A car slowing beside her made her jump before she recognised Andrew Minyard’s fancy black car and stopped alongside it. 

The window rolled down soundlessly to reveal Andrew, looking very unimpressed. ‘What is it with your family and being allergic to asking for help?’ he asked, before indicating for her to get in. 

Mack got in the passenger seat and pulled her hood back. ‘Thanks,’ she muttered, buckling herself in.

Andrew hummed once and pulled back onto the road without indicating. Wiping her cheeks, Mack was absently glad for the rain, camouflaging her tears, or so she thought.

‘I take it the talk did not go to plan.’

Mack scoffed. ‘You could at least try not to sound smug.’

‘And risk sparing your feelings? What would people say?’

His words choked a laugh out of her. So, this was Andrew in a good mood. Interesting. 

‘He kicked me out.’

Andrew cocked a brow at the road. ‘Oh?’

‘Mmhm. Told me to choose between him and revenge.’

Andrew pondered that for a moment. ‘You chose revenge.’

‘No,’ Mack said quickly. ‘I wouldn’t choose. I mean, what did he expect me to do…? I’m actually asking. Surely he told you.’

The assumption seemed to piss Andrew off. ‘You think I know his every thought?’

‘I think you know more than I do.’

_ ‘I  _ think that if Neil has made you a forbidden topic of discussion, then it’s only fair I do the same for him.’

Mack frowned at that. ‘Why am I a forbidden topic?’

‘Something about my murderous urges,’ Andrew muttered, and pulled up outside Mack’s building. He pulled the handbrake and turned to her. ‘I think we can help each other.’

‘Help each other?’ Mack asked cautiously. This was starting to sound scarily similar to a conversation she’d had with Dorian a few months ago.

‘Yes. You see, I have my own reasons for wanting Lola Malcolm dead, and I have my reasons for wanting to protect my family once you fuck off again—’

‘I’m not going to—’

‘I would shut up if I were you,’ Andrew spat, silencing her. Mack had never really seen why Andrew had a reputation for being intimidating, but she saw it now. He was more worried for Neil than he’d been letting on. It soothed a jagged edge of Mack’s guilt. 

She gestured for him to go on. 

‘I’ll help you kill her,’ Andrew said, ‘but you have to train me. You’re better than me in a fight. I need to know how to be just as good, if not better.’

His request startled her. She figured she knew why Andrew wanted Lola dead—you only had to look as far as Neil’s scars—but his desire to let her train him? Entirely left-field.

‘Neil won’t like it,’ Mack muttered.

‘We don’t use the N-word in this car,’ replied Andrew. ‘Do we have a deal or not?’

Mack chewed her lip while she thought. One one hand, she could really use the back-up when it came to taking down Lola. On the other, Neil would never forgive her for going behind his back and involving someone important to him in her shit. But Andrew was a grown man. She wasn’t responsible for his decisions. Neil could hardly foist all the blame onto her alone.

She nodded. ‘Deal. We can’t train here, though.’

‘I know a place. I’ll text you.’

‘You don’t have my number…’ Mack paused, glancing out the window. ‘And you aren’t meant to know where I live.’

‘I’ll text you,’ Andrew said again, firmer. 

Mack couldn’t help the bewildered laugh that escaped her. ‘Whatever. Thanks for the ride, Andrew.’

‘Don’t mention it,’ Andrew called as she shut the door, and she knew he was being literal. 

They were about to work together, behind Neil’s back. 

Mack knew her brother was smart, that he’d catch on eventually and probably cross the fine line from mistrusting her to hating her. It was only a matter of time, and time was something Mack was running out of. Sacrifices had to be made. She just hoped that Neil would come to understand things from her side. Eventually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, another cliffhanger. I'll try and tell Dr. Anxiety to fuck off and get you guys an update super soon, I promise. If you want you can come find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/CAMercey) or [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/camercey) :) Hope you're all well!! <3


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